It was not even guessed at, however remotely, so that she had not the
additional affliction of thinking, that while she was sitting there, a
prey to all sorts of imaginative terrors, they were perhaps gathering
fresh evidence, as, indeed, they were, of the dreadful reality of the
appearance which, but for the collateral circumstances attendant upon
its coming and its going, she would fain have persuaded herself was but
the vision of a dream. It was before nine that the brothers started, but in her own mind Flora
gave them to eleven, and when she heard ten o'clock sound from a clock
which stood in the hall, she felt pleased to think that in another hour
they would surely be at home. "My dear," said her mother, "you look more like yourself, now." "Do, I, mother?" "Yes, you are well again." "Ah, if I could forget--"

"Time, my dear Flora, will enable you to do so, and all the fear of what
made you so unwell will pass away. You will soon forget it all." "I will hope to do so." "Be assured that, some day or another, something will occur, as Henry
says, to explain all that has happened, in some way consistent with
reason and the ordinary nature of things, my dear Flora." "Oh, I will cling to such a belief; I will get Henry, upon whose
judgment I know I can rely, to tell me so, and each time that I hear
such words from his lips, I will contrive to dismiss some portion of the
terror which now, I cannot but confess, clings to my heart." Flora laid her hand upon her mother's arm, and in a low, anxious tone of
voice, said,--"Listen, mother." Mrs. Bannerworth turned pale, as she said,--"Listen to what, dear?" "Within these last ten minutes," said Flora, "I have thought three or
four times that I heard a slight noise without. Nay, mother, do not
tremble--it may be only fancy." [Illustration]

Flora herself trembled, and was of a death-like paleness; once or twice
she passed her hand across her brow, and altogether she presented a
picture of much mental suffering. They now conversed in anxious whispers, and almost all they said
consisted in anxious wishes for the return of the brothers and Mr.
Marchdale. "You will be happier and more assured, my dear, with some company," said
Mrs. Bannerworth. "Shall I ring for the servants, and let them remain in
the room with us, until they who are our best safeguards next to Heaven
return?" "Hush--hush--hush, mother!" "What do you hear?" "I thought--I heard a faint sound." "I heard nothing, dear." "Listen again, mother. Surely I could not be deceived so often. I have
now, at least, six times heard a sound as if some one was outside by the
windows." "No, no, my darling, do not think; your imagination is active and in a
state of excitement." "It is, and yet--"

"Believe me, it deceives you." "I hope to Heaven it does!" There was a pause of some minutes' duration, and then Mrs. Bannerworth
again urged slightly the calling of some of the servants, for she
thought that their presence might have the effect of giving a different
direction to her child's thoughts; but Flora saw her place her hand upon
the bell, and she said,--

"No, mother, no--not yet, not yet. Perhaps I am deceived." Mrs. Bannerworth upon this sat down, but no sooner had she done so than
she heartily regretted she had not rung the bell, for, before, another
word could be spoken, there came too perceptibly upon their ears for
there to be any mistake at all about it, a strange scratching noise upon
the window outside. A faint cry came from Flora's lips, as she exclaimed, in a voice of
great agony,--

"Oh, God!--oh, God! It has come again!" Mrs. Bannerworth became faint, and unable to move or speak at all; she
could only sit like one paralysed, and unable to do more than listen to
and see what was going on. The scratching noise continued for a few seconds, and then altogether
ceased. Perhaps, under ordinary circumstances, such a sound outside the
window would have scarcely afforded food for comment at all, or, if it
had, it would have been attributed to some natural effect, or to the
exertions of some bird or animal to obtain admittance to the house. But there had occurred now enough in that family to make any little
sound of wonderful importance, and these things which before would have
passed completely unheeded, at all events without creating much alarm,
were now invested with a fearful interest. When the scratching noise ceased, Flora spoke in a low, anxious whisper,
as she said,--

"Mother, you heard it then?" Mrs. Bannerworth tried to speak, but she could not; and then suddenly,
with a loud clash, the bar, which on the inside appeared to fasten the
shutters strongly, fell as if by some invisible agency, and the shutters
now, but for the intervention of the window, could be easily pushed open
from without. Mrs. Bannerworth covered her face with her hands, and, after rocking to
and fro for a moment, she fell off her chair, having fainted with the
excess of terror that came over her. For about the space of time in which a fast speaker could count twelve,
Flora thought her reason was leaving her, but it did not. She found
herself recovering; and there she sat, with her eyes fixed upon the
window, looking more like some exquisitely-chiselled statue of despair
than a being of flesh and blood, expecting each moment to have its eyes
blasted by some horrible appearance, such as might be supposed to drive
her to madness. And now again came the strange knocking or scratching against the glass
of the window. This continued for some minutes, during which it appeared likewise to
Flora that some confusion was going on at another part of the house, for
she fancied she heard voices and the banging of doors. It seemed to her as if she must have sat looking at the shutters of that
window a long time before she saw them shake, and then one wide hinged
portion of them slowly opened. Once again horror appeared to be on the point of producing madness in
her brain, and then, as before, a feeling of calmness rapidly ensued. She was able to see plainly that something was by the window, but what
it was she could not plainly discern, in consequence of the lights she
had in the room. A few moments, however, sufficed to settle that
mystery, for the window was opened and a figure stood before her. One glance, one terrified glance, in which her whole soul was
concentrated, sufficed to shew her who and what the figure was. There
was the tall, gaunt form--there was the faded ancient apparel--the
lustrous metallic-looking eyes--its half-opened month, exhibiting the
tusk-like teeth! It was--yes, it was--_the vampyre!_

It stood for a moment gazing at her, and then in the hideous way it had
attempted before to speak, it apparently endeavoured to utter some words
which it could not make articulate to human ears. The pistols lay before
Flora. Mechanically she raised one, and pointed it at the figure. It
advanced a step, and then she pulled the trigger. A stunning report followed.