"A mystery, indeed, to imagine that such a being as Flora could awaken
any such feeling in your heart--a most abundant mystery." "It is so. I do not affect to deny it: but yet it is true, although so
greatly mysterious, but tell her that although at one time I looked upon
her as one whom I cared not if I injured, her beauty and distress
changed the current of my thoughts, and won upon me greatly, From the
moment I found I had the power to become the bane of her existence, I
ceased to wish to be so, and never again shall she experience a pang of
alarm from Varney, the vampyre." "Your message shall be faithfully delivered, and doubt not that it will
be received with grateful feelings. Nevertheless I should have much
wished to have been in a position to inform her of more particulars." "Come to me here at midnight to-morrow, and you shall know all. I will
have no reservation with you, no concealments; you shall know whom I
have had to battle against, and how it is that a world of evil passions
took possession of my heart and made me what I am." "Are you firm in this determination, Varney--will you indeed tell me no
more to-night?" "No more, I have said it. Leave me now. I have need of more repose, for
of late sleep has seldom closed my eyelids." Charles Holland was convinced, from the positive manner in which he
spoke, that nothing more in the shape of information, at that time, was
to be expected from Varney; and being fearful that if he urged this
strange being too far, at a time when he did not wish it, he might
refuse all further communication, he thought it prudent to leave him, so
he said to him,--

"Be assured, Varney, I shall keep the appointment you have made, with an
expectation when we do meet of being rewarded by a recital of some full
particulars." "You shall not be disappointed; farewell, farewell!" Charles Holland bade him adieu, and left the place. Although he had now acquired all the information he hoped to take away
with him when Varney first began to be communicative, yet, when he came
to consider how strange and unaccountable a being he had been in
communication with, Charles could not but congratulate himself that he
had heard so much, for, from the manner of Varney, he could well suppose
that that was, indeed, the first time he had been so communicative upon
subjects which evidently held so conspicuous a place in his heart. And he had abundance of hope, likewise, from what had been said by
Varney, that he would keep his word, and communicate to him fully all
else that he required to know; and when he recollected those words which
Varney had used, signifying that he knew the danger of half confidences,
that hope grew into a certainty, and Charles began to have no doubt but
that on the next evening all that was mysterious in the various affairs
connected with the vampyre would become clear and open to the light of
day. He strolled down the lane in which the lone house was situated,
revolving these matters in his mind, and when he arrived at its
entrance, he was rather surprised to see a throng of persons hastily
moving onward, with come appearance of dismay about them, and anxiety
depicted upon their countenances. He stopped a lad, and inquired of him the cause of the seeming tumult. "Why, sir, the fact is," said the boy, "a crowd from the town's been
burning down Bannerworth Hall, and they've killed a man." "Bannerworth Hall! you must be mistaken." "Well, sir, I ought not to call it Bannerworth Hall, because I mean the
old ruins in the neighbourhood that are supposed to have been originally
Bannerworth Hall before the house now called such was built; and,
moreover, as the Bannerworths have always had a garden there, and two or
three old sheds, the people in the town called it Bannerworth Hall in
common with the other building." "I understand. And do you say that all have been destroyed?" "Yes, sir. All that was capable of being burnt has been burnt, and, what
is more, a man has been killed among the ruins. We don't know who he is,
but the folks said he was a vampyre, and they left him for dead." "When will these terrible outrages cease? Oh! Varney, Varney, you have
much to answer for; even if in your conscience you succeed in acquitting
yourself of the murder, some of the particulars concerning which you
have informed me of." CHAPTER LXXXIII. THE MYSTERIOUS ARRIVAL AT THE INN.--THE HUNGARIAN NOBLEMAN.--THE LETTER
TO VARNEY. [Illustration]

While these affairs are proceeding, and when there seems every
appearance of Sir Francis Varney himself quickly putting an end to some
of the vexatious circumstances connected with himself and the
Bannerworth family, it is necessary that we should notice an occurrence
which took place at the same inn which the admiral had made such a scene
of confusion upon the occasion of his first arrival in the town. Not since the admiral had arrived with Jack Pringle, and so disturbed
the whole economy of the household, was there so much curiosity excited
as on the morning following the interview which Charles Holland had had
with Varney, the vampyre. The inn was scarcely opened, when a stranger arrived, mounted on a
coal-black horse, and, alighting, he surrendered the bridle into the
hands of a boy who happened to be at the inn-door, and stalked slowly
and solemnly into the building. He was tall, and of a cadaverous aspect; in attire he was plainly
apparelled, but there was no appearance of poverty about him; on the
contrary, what he really had on was of a rich and costly character,
although destitute of ornament. He sat down in the first room that presented itself, and awaited the
appearance of the landlord, who, upon being informed that a guest of
apparently ample means, and of some consequence, had entered the place,
hastily went to him to receive his commands. With a profusion of bows, our old friend, who had been so obsequious to
Admiral Bell, entered the room, and begged to know what orders the
gentleman had for him. "I presume," said the stranger, in a deep, solemn voice, "I presume that
you have no objection, for a few days that I shall remain in this town,
to board and lodge me for a certain price which you can name to me at
once?" "Certainly, sir," said the landlord; "any way you please; without wine,
sir, I presume?" "As you please; make your own arrangements." "Well, sir, as we can't tell, of course, what wine a gentleman may
drink, but when we come to consider breakfast, dinner, tea, and supper,
and a bed, and all that sort of thing, and a private sitting-room, I
suppose, sir?" "Certainly." "You would not, then, think, sir, a matter of four guineas a week will
be too much, perhaps." "I told you to name your own charge. Let it be four guineas; if you had
said eight I should have paid it." "Good God!" said the publican, "here's a damned fool that I am. I beg
your pardon, sir, I didn't mean you. Now I could punch my own head--will
you have breakfast at once, sir, and then we shall begin regular, you
know, sir?"