I
would rather believe you were all mad, the whole family of you--that at
the full of the moon you all were a little cracked." "And so would I." "You go home now, and I will call and see your sister in the course of
two hours. Something may turn up yet, to throw some new light upon this
strange subject." With this understanding Henry went home, and he took care to ride as
fast as before, in order to avoid questions, so that he got back to his
old ancestral home without going through the disagreeable ordeal of
having to explain to any one what had disturbed the peace of it. When Henry reached his home, he found that the evening was rapidly
coming on, and before he could permit himself to think upon any other
subject, he inquired how his terrified sister had passed the hours
during his absence. He found that but little improvement had taken place in her, and that
she had occasionally slept, but to awaken and speak incoherently, as if
the shock she had received had had some serious affect upon her nerves. He repaired at once to her room, and, finding that she was awake, he
leaned over her, and spoke tenderly to her. "Flora," he said, "dear Flora, you are better now?" "Harry, is that you?" "Yes, dear." "Oh, tell me what has happened?" "Have you not a recollection, Flora?" "Yes, yes, Henry; but what was it? They none of them will tell me what
it was, Henry." "Be calm, dear. No doubt some attempt to rob the house." "Think you so?" "Yes; the bay window was peculiarly adapted for such a purpose; but now
that you are removed here to this room, you will be able to rest in
peace." "I shall die of terror, Henry. Even now those eyes are glaring on me so
hidiously. Oh, it is fearful--it is very fearful, Henry. Do you not pity
me, and no one will promise to remain with me at night." "Indeed, Flora, you are mistaken, for I intend to sit by your bedside
armed, and so preserve you from all harm." She clutched his hand eagerly, as she said,--

"You will, Henry. You will, and not think it too much trouble, dear
Henry." "It can be no trouble, Flora." "Then I shall rest in peace, for I know that the dreadful vampyre cannot
come to me when you are by-"

"The what, Flora!" "The vampyre, Henry. It was a vampyre." "Good God, who told you so?" "No one. I have read of them in the book of travels in Norway, which Mr.
Marchdale lent us all." "Alas, alas!" groaned Henry. "Discard, I pray you, such a thought from
your mind." "Can we discard thoughts. What power have we but from that mind, which
is ourselves?" "True, true." "Hark, what noise is that? I thought I heard a noise. Henry, when you
go, ring for some one first. Was there not a noise?" "The accidental shutting of some door, dear." "Was it that?" "It was." "Then I am relieved. Henry, I sometimes fancy I am in the tomb, and that
some one is feasting on my flesh. They do say, too, that those who in
life have been bled by a vampyre, become themselves vampyres, and have
the same horrible taste for blood as those before them. Is it not
horrible?" "You only vex yourself by such thoughts, Flora. Mr. Chillingworth is
coming to see you." "Can he minister to a mind diseased?" "But yours is not, Flora. Your mind is healthful, and so, although his
power extends not so far, we will thank Heaven, dear Flora, that you
need it not." She sighed deeply, as she said,--

"Heaven help me! I know not, Henry. The dreadful being held on by my
hair. I must have it all taken off. I tried to get away, but it dragged
me back--a brutal thing it was. Oh, then at that moment, Henry, I felt
as if something strange took place in my brain, and that I was going
mad! I saw those glazed eyes close to, mine--I felt a hot, pestiferous
breath upon my face--help--help!" "Hush! my Flora, hush! Look at me." "I am calm again. It fixed its teeth in my throat. Did I faint away?" "You did, dear; but let me pray you to refer all this to imagination; or
at least the greater part of it." "But you saw it." "Yes--"

"All saw it." "We all saw some man--a housebreaker--It must have been some
housebreaker. What more easy, you know, dear Flora, than to assume some
such disguise?" "Was anything stolen?" "Not that I know of; but there was an alarm, you know." Flora shook her head, as she said, in a low voice,--

"That which came here was more than mortal. Oh, Henry, if it had but
killed me, now I had been happy; but I cannot live--I hear it breathing
now." "Talk of something else, dear Flora," said the much distressed Henry;
"you will make yourself much worse, if you indulge yourself in these
strange fancies." "Oh, that they were but fancies!" "They are, believe me." "There is a strange confusion in my brain, and sleep comes over me
suddenly, when I least expect it. Henry, Henry, what I was, I shall
never, never be again." "Say not so. All this will pass away like a dream, and leave so faint a
trace upon your memory, that the time will come when you will wonder it
ever made so deep an impression on your mind." "You utter these words, Henry," she said, "but they do not come from
your heart. Ah, no, no, no! Who comes?" The door was opened by Mrs. Bannerworth, who said,--

"It is only me, my dear. Henry, here is Dr. Chillingworth in the
dining-room." Henry turned to Flora, saying,--

"You will see him, dear Flora? You know Mr. Chillingworth well." "Yes, Henry, yes, I will see him, or whoever you please." "Shew Mr. Chillingworth up," said Henry to the servant. In a few moments the medical man was in the room, and he at once
approached the bedside to speak to Flora, upon whose pale countenance he
looked with evident interest, while at the same time it seemed mingled
with a painful feeling--at least so his own face indicated. "Well, Miss Bannerworth," he said, "what is all this I hear about an
ugly dream you have had?" "A dream?" said Flora, as she fixed her beautiful eyes on his face. "Yes, as I understand." She shuddered, and was silent. "Was it not a dream, then?" added Mr. Chillingworth. She wrung her hands, and in a voice of extreme anguish and pathos,
said,--

"Would it were a dream--would it were a dream! Oh, if any one could but
convince me it was a dream!" "Well, will you tell me what it was?" "Yes, sir, it was a vampyre." Mr. Chillingworth glanced at Henry, as he said, in reply to Flora's
words,--

"I suppose that is, after all, another name, Flora, for the nightmare?" "No--no--no!" "Do you really, then, persist in believing anything so absurd, Miss
Bannerworth?" "What can I say to the evidence of my own senses?" she replied. "I saw
it, Henry saw it, George saw, Mr. Marchdale, my mother--all saw it. We
could not all be at the same time the victims of the same delusion." "How faintly you speak." "I am very faint and ill."

"Indeed. What wound is that on your neck?"