The probability is, that she more than
suspected the vampyre had made another visit, but they forbore to press
the point; and, leaving her with her mother, Henry and George went from
her chamber again--the former to endeavour to seek some repose, as it
would be his turn to watch on the succeeding night, and the latter to
resume his station in a small room close to Flora's chamber, where it
had been agreed watch and ward should be kept by turns while the alarm
lasted. At length, the morning again dawned upon that unhappy family, and to
none were its beams more welcome. The birds sang their pleasant carols beneath the window. The sweet,
deep-coloured autumnal sun shone upon all objects with a golden luster;
and to look abroad, upon the beaming face of nature, no one could for a
moment suppose, except from sad experience, that there were such things
as gloom, misery, and crime, upon the earth. "And must I," said Henry, as he gazed from a window of the hall upon the
undulating park, the majestic trees, the flowers, the shrubs, and the
many natural beauties with which the place was full,--"must I be chased
from this spot, the home of my self and of my kindred, by a
phantom--must I indeed seek refuge elsewhere, because my own home has
become hideous?" It was indeed a cruel and a painful thought! It was one he yet would
not, could not be convinced was absolutely necessary. But now the sun
was shining: it was morning; and the feelings, which found a home in his
breast amid the darkness, the stillness, and the uncertainty of night,
were chased away by those glorious beams of sunlight, that fell upon
hill, valley, and stream, and the thousand sweet sounds of life and
animation that filled that sunny air! Such a revulsion of feeling was natural enough. Many of the distresses
and mental anxieties of night vanish with the night, and those which
oppressed the heart of Henry Bannerworth were considerably modified. He was engaged in these reflections when he heard the sound of the lodge
bell, and as a visitor was now somewhat rare at this establishment, he
waited with some anxiety to see to whom he was indebted for so early a
call. In the course of a few minutes, one of the servants came to him with a
letter in her hand. It bore a large handsome seal, and, from its appearance, would seem to
have come from some personage of consequence. A second glance at it
shewed him the name of "Varney" in the corner, and, with some degree of
vexation, he muttered to himself,

"Another condoling epistle from the troublesome neighbour whom I have
not yet seen." "If you please, sir," said the servant who had brought him the letter,
"as I'm here, and you are here, perhaps you'll have no objection to give
me what I'm to have for the day and two nights as I've been here, cos I
can't stay in a family as is so familiar with all sorts o' ghostesses: I
ain't used to such company." "What do you mean?" said Henry. The question was a superfluous one--: too well he knew what the woman
meant, and the conviction came across his mind strongly that no domestic
would consent to live long in a house which was subject to such dreadful
visitations. "What does I mean!" said the woman,--"why, sir, if it's all the same to
you, I don't myself come of a wampyre family, and I don't choose to
remain in a house where there is sich things encouraged. That's what I
means, sir." "What wages are owing to you?" said Henry. "Why, as to wages, I only comed here by the day." "Go, then, and settle with my mother. The sooner you leave this house,
the better." "Oh, indeed. I'm sure I don't want to stay." This woman was one of those who were always armed at all points for a
row, and she had no notion of concluding any engagement, of any
character whatever, without some disturbance; therefore, to see Henry
take what she said with such provoking calmness was aggravating in the
extreme; but there was no help for such a source of vexation. She could
find no other ground of quarrel than what was connected with the
vampyre, and, as Henry would not quarrel with her on such a score, she
was compelled to give it up in despair. When Henry found himself alone, and free from the annoyance of this
woman, he turned his attention to the letter he held in his hand, and
which, from the autograph in the corner, he knew came from his new
neighbour, Sir Francis Varney, whom, by some chance or another, he had
never yet seen. To his great surprise, he found that the letter contained the following
words:--

     Dear Sir,--"As a neighbour, by purchase of an estate contiguous
     to your own, I am quite sure you have excused, and taken in good
     part, the cordial offer I made to you of friendship and service
     some short time since; but now, in addressing to you a distinct
     proposition, I trust I shall meet with an indulgent
     consideration, whether such proposition be accordant with your
     views or not. "What I have heard from common report induces me to believe that
     Bannerworth Hall cannot be a desirable residence for yourself, or
     your amiable sister. If I am right in that conjecture, and you
     have any serious thought of leaving the place, I would earnestly
     recommend you, as one having some experience in such descriptions
     of property, to sell it at once. "Now, the proposition with which I conclude this letter is, I
     know, of a character to make you doubt the disinterestedness of
     such advice; but that it is disinterested, nevertheless, is a
     fact of which I can assure my own heart, and of which I beg to
     assure you. I propose, then, should you, upon consideration,
     decide upon such a course of proceeding, to purchase of you the
     Hall. I do not ask for a bargain on account of any extraneous
     circumstances which may at the present time depreciate the value
     of the property, but I am willing to give a fair price for it. Under these circumstances, I trust, sir, that you will give a
     kindly consideration to my offer, and even if you reject it, I
     hope that, as neighbours, we may live long in peace and amity,
     and in the interchange of those good offices which should subsist
     between us. Awaiting your reply,

     "Believe me to be, dear sir,

     "Your very obedient servant,

     "FRANCIS VARNEY. "To Henry Bannerworth, Esq." Henry, after having read this most unobjectionable letter through,
folded it up again, and placed it in his pocket. Clasping his hands,
then, behind his back, a favourite attitude of his when he was in deep
contemplation, he paced to and fro in the garden for some time in deep
thought. "How strange," he muttered. "It seems that every circumstance combines
to induce me to leave my old ancestral home. It appears as if everything
now that happened had that direct tendency. What can be the meaning of
all this? 'Tis very strange--amazingly strange. Here arise circumstances
which are enough to induce any man to leave a particular place.