He took from the shelves of a book case the work which Flora had
mentioned, entitled, "Travels in Norway," in which work he found some
account of the popular belief in vampyres. He opened the work at random, and then some of the leaves turned over of
themselves to a particular place, as the leaves of a book will
frequently do when it has been kept open a length of time at that part,
and the binding stretched there more than anywhere else. There was a
note at the bottom of one of the pages at this part of the book, and
Henry read as follows:--

"With regard to these vampyres, it is believed by those who are inclined
to give credence to so dreadful a superstition, that they always
endeavour to make their feast of blood, for the revival of their bodily
powers, on some evening immediately preceding a full moon, because if
any accident befal them, such as being shot, or otherwise killed or
wounded, they can recover by lying down somewhere where the full moon's
rays will fall upon them." Henry let the book drop from his hands with a groan and a shudder. CHAPTER V.

THE NIGHT WATCH.--THE PROPOSAL.--THE MOONLIGHT.--THE FEARFUL ADVENTURE. [Illustration]

A kind of stupefaction came over Henry Bannerworth, and he sat for about
a quarter of an hour scarcely conscious of where he was, and almost
incapable of anything in the shape of rational thought. It was his
brother, George, who roused him by saying, as he laid his hand upon his
shoulder,--

"Henry, are you asleep?" Henry had not been aware of his presence, and he started up as if he had
been shot. "Oh, George, is it you?" he said. "Yes, Henry, are you unwell?" "No, no; I was in a deep reverie." "Alas! I need not ask upon what subject," said George, sadly. "I sought
you to bring you this letter." "A letter to me?" "Yes, you see it is addressed to you, and the seal looks as if it came
from someone of consequence." "Indeed!" "Yes, Henry. Read it, and see from whence it comes." There was just sufficient light by going to the window to enable Henry
to read the letter, which he did aloud. It ran thus:--

     "Sir Francis Varney presents his compliments to Mr. Beaumont, and
     is much concerned to hear that some domestic affliction has
     fallen upon him. Sir Francis hopes that the genuine and loving
     sympathy of a neighbour will not be regarded as an intrusion, and
     begs to proffer any assistance or counsel that may be within the
     compass of his means. "Ratford Abbey." "Sir Francis Varney!" said Henry, "who is he?" "Do you not remember, Henry," said George, "we were told a few days ago,
that a gentleman of that name had become the purchaser of the estate of
Ratford Abbey." "Oh, yes, yes. Have you seen him?" "I have not." "I do not wish to make any new acquaintance, George. We are very
poor--much poorer indeed than the general appearance of this place,
which, I fear, we shall soon have to part with, would warrant any one
believing. I must, of course, return a civil answer to this gentleman,
but it must be such as one as shall repress familiarity." "That will be difficult to do while we remain here, when we come to
consider the very close proximity of the two properties, Henry." "Oh, no, not at all. He will easily perceive that we do not want to make
acquaintance with him, and then, as a gentleman, which doubtless he is,
he will give up the attempt." "Let it be so, Henry. Heaven knows I have no desire to form any new
acquaintance with any one, and more particularly under our present
circumstances of depression. And now, Henry, you must permit me, as I
have had some repose, to share with you your night watch in Flora's
room." "I would advise you not, George; your health, you know, is very far from
good." "Nay, allow me. If not, then the anxiety I shall suffer will do me more
harm than the watchfulness I shall keep up in her chamber." This was an argument which Henry felt himself the force of too strongly
not to admit it in the case of George, and he therefore made no further
opposition to his wish to make one in the night watch. "There will be an advantage," said George, "you see, in three of us
being engaged in this matter, because, should anything occur, two can
act together, and yet Flora may not be left alone." "True, true, that is a great advantage." Now a soft gentle silvery light began to spread itself over the heavens. The moon was rising, and as the beneficial effects of the storm of the
preceding evening were still felt in the clearness of the air, the rays
appeared to be more lustrous and full of beauty than they commonly were. Each moment the night grew lighter, and by the time the brothers were
ready to take their places in the chamber of Flora, the moon had risen
considerably. Although neither Henry nor George had any objection to the company of
Mr. Marchdale, yet they gave him the option, and rather in fact urged
him not to destroy his night's repose by sitting up with them; but he
said,--

"Allow me to do so; I am older, and have calmer judgment than you can
have. Should anything again appear, I am quite resolved that it shall
not escape me." "What would you do?" "With the name of God upon my lips," said Mr. Marchdale, solemnly, "I
would grapple with it." "You laid hands upon it last night." "I did, and have forgotten to show you what I tore from it. Look
here,--what should you say this was?" He produced a piece of cloth, on which was an old-fashioned piece of
lace, and two buttons. Upon a close inspection, this appeared to be a
portion of the lapel of a coat of ancient times, and suddenly, Henry,
with a look of intense anxiety, said,--

"This reminds me of the fashion of garments very many years ago, Mr. Marchdale." "It came away in my grasp as if rotten and incapable of standing any
rough usage." "What a strange unearthly smell it has!" "Now you mention it yourself," added Mr. Marchdale, "I must confess it
smells to me as if it had really come from the very grave." "It does--it does. Say nothing of this relic of last night's work to any
one." "Be assured I shall not. I am far from wishing to keep up in any one's
mind proofs of that which I would fain, very fain refute." Mr. Marchdale replaced the portion of the coat which the figure had worn
in his pocket, and then the whole three proceeded to the chamber of
Flora. *       *       *       *       *

It was within a very few minutes of midnight, the moon had climbed high
in the heavens, and a night of such brightness and beauty had seldom
shown itself for a long period of time. Flora slept, and in her chamber sat the two brothers and Mr. Marchdale,
silently, for she had shown symptoms of restlessness, and they much
feared to break the light slumber into which she had fallen. Occasionally they had conversed in whispers, which could not have the
effect of rousing her, for the room, although smaller than the one she
had before occupied, was still sufficiently spacious to enable them to
get some distance from the bed.