Thus empowered by the mysterious being, Charles Holland related briefly
what Varney had already told him, and then concluded by saying,--

"That is all that I have myself as yet been made aware of, and I now
call upon Sir Francis Varney to finish his narration." "I am weak," said Varney, "and scarcely equal to the task; but yet I
will not shrink from the promise that I have made. You have been the
preservers of my life, and more particularly to you, Flora Bannerworth,
am I indebted for an existence, which otherwise must have been
sacrificed upon the altar of superstition." "But you will recollect, Master Varney," said the admiral, who had sat
looking on for some time in silent wonder, "you must recollect, Master
Varney, that the people are, after all, not so much to blame for their
superstition, because, whether you are a vampyre or not, and I don't
pretend to come to a positive opinion now, you took good care to
persuade them you were." "I did," said Varney, with a shudder; "but why did I?" "Well, you know best." "It was, then, because I did believe, and do believe, that there is
something more than natural about my strangely protracted existence; but
we will waive that point, and, before my failing strength, for it
appears to me to be failing, completely prevents me from doing so, let
me relate to you the continued particulars of the circumstances that
made me what I am." Flora Bannerworth, although she had heard before from the lips of
Charles Holland the to her dreadful fact, that her father, in addition
to having laid violent hands upon his own life, was a murderer, now that
that fearful circumstance was related more publicly, felt a greater pang
than she had done when it was whispered to her in the accents of pure
affection, and softened down by a gentleness of tone, which Charles
Holland's natural delicacy would not allow him to use even to her whom
he loved so well in the presence of others. She let her beautiful face be hidden by her hands, and she wept as she
listened to the sad detail. Varney looked inquiringly in the countenance of Charles Holland,
because, having given him leave to make Flora acquainted with the
circumstance, he was rather surprised at the amount of emotion which it
produced in her. Charles Holland answered the appealing look by saying,--

"Flora is already aware of the facts, but it naturally affects her much
to hear them now repeated in the presence of others, and those too,
towards whom she cannot feel--"

What Charles Holland was going to say was abruptly stopped short by the
admiral, who interposed, exclaiming,--

"Why, what do you mean, you son of a sea cook? The presence of who do
you mean? Do you mean to say that I don't feel for Miss Flora, bless her
heart! quite as much as a white-faced looking swab like you? Why, I
shall begin to think you are only fit for a marine." "Nay, uncle, now do not put yourself out of temper. You must be well
aware that I could not mean anything disrespectful to you. You should
not suppose such a state of things possible; and although, perhaps, I
did not express myself so felicitously as I might, yet what I intended
to say, was--"

"Oh, bother what you intended to say. You go on, Mr. Vampyre, with your
story. I want to know what became of it all; just you get on as quick as
you can, and let us know what you did after the man was murdered." "When the dreadful deed was committed," said Varney, "and our victim lay
weltering in his blood, and had breathed his last, we stood like men who
for the first time were awakened to the frightful consequences of what
they had done. "I saw by the dim light that hovered round us a great change come over
the countenance of Marmaduke Bannerworth, and he shook in every limb. "This soon passed away, however, and the powerful and urgent necessity
which arose of avoiding the consequences of the deed that we had done,
restored us to ourselves. We stooped and took from the body the
ill-gotten gains of the gambler. They amounted to an immense sum, and I
said to Marmaduke Bannerworth,--

"'Take you the whole of this money and proceed to your own home with it,
where you will be least suspected. Hide it in some place of great
secrecy, and to-morrow I will call upon you, when we will divide it, and
will consider of some means of safely exchanging the notes for gold.' "He agreed to this, and placed the money in his pocket, after which it
became necessary that we should dispose of the body, which, if we did
not quickly remove, must in a few hours be discovered, and so,
perchance, accompanied by other criminating circumstances, become a
frightful evidence against us, and entail upon us all those consequences
of the deed which we were so truly anxious to escape from. "It is ever the worst part of the murderer's task, that after he has
struck the blow that has deprived his victim of existence, it becomes
his frightful duty to secrete the corpse, which, with its dead eyes,
ever seems to be glaring upon him such a world of reproach. "That it is which should make people pause ere they dipped their hands
in the blood of others, and that it is which becomes the first
retribution that the murderer has to endure for the deep crime that he
has committed. "We tore two stakes from a hedge, and with their assistance we contrived
to dig a very superficial hole, such a hole as was only sufficient, by
placing a thin coating of earth over it, to conceal the body of the
murdered man. "And then came the loathsome task of dragging him into it--a task full
of horror, and from which we shrunk aghast; but it had to be done, and,
therefore, we stooped, and grasping the clothes as best we might, we
dragged the body into the chasm we had prepared for its reception. Glad
were we then to be enabled to throw the earth upon it and to stamp upon
it with such vehemence as might well be supposed to actuate men deeply
anxious to put out of sight some dangerous and loathsome object. "When we had completed this, and likewise gathered handsfull of dust
from the road, and dry leaves, and such other matter, to sprinkle upon
the grave, so as to give the earth an appearance of not having been
disturbed, we looked at each other and breathed from our toil. "Then, and not till then, was it that we remembered that among other
things which the gambler had won of Marmaduke were the deeds belonging
to the Dearbrook property." "The Dearbrook property!" exclaimed Henry Bannerworth; "I know that
there was a small estate going by that name, which belonged to our
family, but I always understood that long ago my father had parted with
it." "Yes; it was mortgaged for a small sum--a sum not a fourth part of its
value--and it had been redeemed by Marmaduke Bannerworth, not for the
purpose of keeping it, but in order that he might sell it outright, and
so partially remedy his exhausted finances." "I was not aware of that," returned Henry.