"Good morning, Sir Francis," said Flora, rising to receive him; and she
could not avoid looking at him as he entered the room. "I hope you have
had a pleasant night?" "It has been the best night's rest I have had for some time, Miss
Bannerworth. I assure you I have to express my gratitude to you for so
much kindness. I have slept well, and soundly." "I am glad to hear it." "I think yet I shall escape the search of these people who have hunted
me from so many places." "I hope you may, indeed, Sir Francis." "You, Miss Bannerworth! and do you hope I may escape the vengeance of
these people--the populace?" "I do, Sir Francis, most sincerely hope so. Why should I wish evil to
you, especially at their hands?" Sir Francis did not speak for a minute or two, and then he said, turning
full upon Flora--

"I don't know why, Miss Bannerworth, that I should think so, but perhaps
it is because there are peculiar circumstances connected with myself,
that have made me feel conscious that I have not deserved so much
goodness at your hands." "You have not deserved any evil. Sir Francis, we could not do that if it
were in our power; we would do you a service at any time." "You have done so, Miss Bannerworth--the greatest that can be performed. You have saved my life." At that moment Charles Holland entered, and Sir Francis bowed, as he
said,--

"I hope you, Mr. Holland, have slept as well, and passed as good a night
as I have passed?" "I am glad you, at least, have passed a quiet one," said Charles
Holland; "you, I dare say, feel all the better for it? How do you feel
yourself? Are you much hurt?" "Not at all, not at all," said Sir Francis Varney. "Only a few bruises,
and so forth, some of which, as you may perceive, do not add to one's
personal appearance. A week or two's quiet would rid me of them. At all
events, I would it may do the same with my enemies." "I wish they were as easily gotten rid of myself," said Charles; "but as
that cannot be, we must endeavour to baffle them in the best way we
may." "I owe a debt to you I shall never be able to repay; but where there is
a will, they say there is a way; and if the old saying be good for
anything, I need not despair, though the way is by no means apparent at
present." "Time is the magician," said Flora, "whose wand changes all things--the
young to the aged, and the aged to nothing." "Certainly, that is true," said Varney, "and many such changes have I
seen. My mind is stored with such events; but this is sadness, and I
have cause to rejoice." * * * *

The breakfast was passed off in pleasing conversation, and Varney found
himself much at home with the Bannerworths, whose calm and even tenour
was quite new to him. He could not but admit the charms of such a life as that led by the
Bannerworths; but what it must have been when they were supplied by
ample means, with nothing to prey upon their minds, and no fearful
mystery to hang on and weigh down their spirits, he could scarcely
imagine. They were amiable, accomplished; they were in the same mind at all times,
and nothing seemed to ruffle them; and when night came, he could not but
acknowledge to himself that he had never formed half the opinion of them
they were deserving of. Of course during that day he was compelled to lie close, so as not to be
seen by any one, save the family. He sat in a small room, which was
overlooked by no other in the neighbourhood, and he remained quiet,
sometimes conversing, and sometimes reading, but at the same time ever
attentive to the least sound that appeared at all of a character to
indicate the approach of persons for any purpose whatever. At supper time he spoke to Flora and to Charles Holland, saying,--

"There are certain matters connected with myself--I may say with you
now--sure all that has happened will make it so--of which you would be
glad to hear some thing." "You mean upon the same subject upon which I had some conversation with
you a day or two back?" "Yes, the same. Allow me one week, and you shall know all. I will then
relate to you that which you so much desire to know--one week, and all
shall be told." "Well," said Charles Holland, "this has not been exacted from you as the
price of your safety, but you can choose your own time, of course; what
you promise is most desired, for it will render those happy who now are
much worse than they were before these occurrences took place." "I am aware of all that; grant me but one week, and then you shall be
made acquainted with all." "I am satisfied, Sir Francis," said Flora; "but while here under our
roof, we should never have asked you a question." "Of this, Miss Bannerworth, the little I have seen of you assures me you
would not do so; however, I am the more inclined to make it--I am under
so deep an obligation to you all, that I can never repay it." *       *       *       *       *

Sir Francis Varney retired to rest that night--his promise to the
Bannerworths filled his mind with many reflections--the insecurity of
his own position, and the frail tenure which he even held in the hands
of those whom he had most injured. This produced a series of reflections of a grave and melancholy nature,
and he sat by his window, watching the progress of the clouds, as they
appeared to chase each other over the face of the scene--now casting a
shade over the earth, and then banishing the shadows, and throwing a
gentle light over the earth's surface, which was again chased away, and
shadows again fell upon the scene below. How long he had sat there in melancholy musing he knew not; but suddenly
he was aroused from his dreams by a voice that shook the skies, and
caused him to start to his feet. "Hurrah!--hurrah!--hurrah!" shouted the mob, which had silently
collected around the cottage of the Bannerworths. "Curses!" muttered Sir Francis, as he again sank in his chair, and
struck his head with his hand. "I am hunted to death--they will not
leave me until my body has graced a cross-road." "Hurrah!--down with the vampyre--pull him out!" Then came an instant knocking at the doors, and the people on the
outside made so great a din, that it seemed as though they contemplated
knocking the house down at once, without warning the inmates that they
waited there. There was a cessation for about a minute, when one of the family
hastened to the door, and inquired what was wanted. "Varney, the vampyre," was the reply. "You must seek him elsewhere." "We will search this place before we go further," replied a man. "But he is not here." "We have reason to believe otherwise. Open the door, and let us in--no
one shall be hurt, or one single object in the house; but we must come
in, and search for the vampyre." "Come to-morrow, then." "That will not do," said the voice; "open, or we force our way in
without more notice." At the same a tremendous blow was bestowed upon the door, and then much
force was used to thrust it in.