CHAPTER CLXXXIX.
[Chapter 206]
THE SIGHT OF TERROR. —THE DOCTOR'S SUSPICIONS. —THE NIGHT WATCH.
The sight that met the eyes of the father in his daughter's chamber, was,
indeed, one calculated in every respect to strike him with horror and misery.
Emma was lying insensible at the side of the bed, and Clara seemed to be
dead, for she was ghastly pale, and there was blood upon her neck.
The father staggered to a seat, but Dr. North at once rushed forward, and
held the light to the eyes of Clara, at the same time, that he placed his
finger on her wrist to note if there was any pulsation.
"Only a fainting fit," he said.
"But the blood—the—the blood," cried Sir George.
["]That I know nothing about, just at present, but let us see what's the
matter here.["]
He raised Emma from the floor, and found that she too had fainted, but as
she appeared to be perfectly uninjured. She slightly recovered as he lifted
her up, and he resigned her at once to the care of some of the female
servants, who now made their appearance in the chamber, all terribly alarmed
at the shriek that had awakened them.
"This is strange," said Dr. North, "here is a small puncture upon the
throat of your daughter Clara, that almost looks like the mark of a tooth."
"A tooth!"
"Yes, but of course that cannot be."
"Hear me, oh, hear me," cried Emma, at this moment. "Horror—horror!"
"What would you say—speak at once, and clear up this mystery if you
can. What has happened?"
["]I heard a noise, and came from my own chamber to this. There was some
one bending over the bed. 'Twas I who shrieked.["]
"You?"
"Yes, oh yes! 'Twas I. I know not what then happened, for I either fell
or was struck down, and I felt that my senses left me. What has happened? I
too ask; oh, Clara! What was it? what was it?"
"Imagination, most likely," said the doctor. "You had better go to your
room again, Miss Emma, for you are trembling with cold and apprehension.
Perhaps in the morning, all this affair will assume a different shape. At
present we are all to much flurried to take proper congisance of it. There
your sister is rapidly recovering. How do you feel now, Miss Clara?"
"I—I—am mad!"
"Oh, pho! pho! nonsense!"
"Oh, God help me! How horrifying ! How more than dreadful! That awful
face! Those hideous teeth! —I am mad! —I am mad!"
"Why, my dear child, you will drive me mad," cried Sir George, "if you
talk in such a strain. Oh, let me beg of you not."
"Don't heed her," said Dr. North. "This will soon pass away. Come, Miss
Clara, you must tell me freely, as your medical man, what has happened. Let
us hear the full particulars, and then you know well, that if any human means
can aid you, you shall be aided."
This calm mode of discourse had evidently a great effect upon her, and
after the silence of a few moments, she spoke much more collectedly than
before, saying, —
"Oh, no—no! I cannot think it a dream."
"What a dream?"
"You—you shall hear. But do not drag me from my home, and from all I
love, if I am mad; I pray you do not— I implore you!"
"You are quite safe. Why, what a ridiculous girl you are, to be sure.
Nobody wants to drag you from your home, and nobody will attempt such a thing,
I assure you. You have only to tell us all unreservedly, and you will then be
quite safe. If you refuse us you confidence how can we act for you in any
way?"
This argument seemed to be effective, and to reach her understanding
quite, so that after a shudder, and a glance around her of great dread and
dismay, she spoke, saying in a low, faltering voice, —
"Something came; something not quite human, yet having the aspect of a
man. Something that flew at me, and fastened its teeth upon my neck."
"Teeth! everbody says 'teeth!'" exclaimed the father.
"Hush!" said the doctor, with an admonitory wave of his hand; "keep that
a secret from her, whatever you do. I implore you, keep quiet on that head.
Well, is that all, Clara?"
"Yes—yes."
"Then it was a dream, and nothing else, I can assure you. Nothing but a
dream; make yourself comfortable, and think no more of it. I dare say you
will have a quiet sleep now, after this. But you had better let your sister
Emma lay with you, as your nerves are a little shattered."
"Oh, yes, yes."
Emma, who truth to tell, was very little better than her sister,
professed her readiness to stay, and the doctor giving Sir George a nod, as
much as to say, "Let no more be said about it just now," led the way from the
room at once.
When he reached the corridor, where Varney and the two sons were waiting,
he said, —
"We shall none of us after this, I am certain, feel inclined to sleep;
suppose we go down stairs at once and think and talk this matter over
together; there is more in it, perhaps, than meets the eye; I will follow you
in a moment, when I have just seen that my patient is all right."
They all proceeded down stairs to the dining-room, and in a few minutes,
the doctor followed; lights were procured, and they sat down, all looking at
the doctor who had taken the lead in the affair, and who evidently had some
very disagreeable, if not very true, ideas upon the subject matter of the
evening's disturbance.
"Well, doctor," said Sir George, "we rely upon you to give us your
opinion upon this business, and some insight into its meaning."
"In the first place then," said the doctor, "I don't understand it."
"Well, that's coming to the point."
"Stop a bit; it was no dream."
"You think not."
"Certainly not a dream, two people don't dream of the same thing at the
same time; I don't of course deny the possibility of such a thing, but it is
too remarkable a coincidence to believe all at once; but Emma avows that she
saw a somebody in her sister's room."
"Ah," said Sir George; "she did, I had in my confusion forgotten that
horrible confirmation of Clara's story. She did so, and before Clara was well
recovered too, so she could not have put the idea into her head. Good God!
what am I to think? For the love of Heaven some of you tell me what are your
opinions upon this horrible affair, which looks so romantically unreal, and
yet so horrible real."
All except the doctor looked at each other in surprise.
"Well," he said, "I will tell you what the thing suggests; not what it
is, mind you, for the afffair to me is too out of the way of natural causes to
induce me to come to a positive conclusion. Before I speak, however, I should
like to have your opinion, Mr. Smith; I am convinced it will be valuable."
"Really I have formed none," replied Varney; "I am only exceedingly
surprised that somebody should have fastened me in my bed-room. I know that
that circumstance gave me a terrible fright, for when I heard all the outcry
and confusion, I thought the house was on fire."
"Ah! the locking of us in our rooms, too," said the doctor, "there's
another bit of reality. Who did that?"
"It puzzles me beyond all comprehension," said Sir George; "how the doors
could be locked I cannot imagine; for as I told you the keys are in a drawer
in my library."
"At all events, the doors could not lock themselves, with or without
keys," said Charles; "and that circumstance shows sufficiently evidently that
some one has been at work in the business whom we have still to discover."
"True," said Mr. Smith.
"Well, gentlemen," added the doctor, "I will tell you what I suggest; and
that is contained in a letter, written a long while ago by a distant relation
of mine, likewise a surgeon. Mind, I do not of course pledge myself at the
present time, for the truth and accuracy of a man who was dead long before I
was born; he might too have been a very superstitious man."
"But what did he suggest?"
"He did more than suggest; he wrote for a medical publication of that day
an account, only of course suppressing names, of the appearance of a vampyre."
"A what?"
"A vampyre!"
"I have heard of such horrors," said Mr. Smith, "but really at the
present day, no one can think of believing such things. Vampyres indeed!
No—that is too great a claim upon one's credulity. These existences, or
supposed existences, have gone the same way as the ghosts, and so on."
"One would think so, but you shall hear."
Sir George Crofton and his sons looked curious, and thought that the
doctor was going to draw upon his memory in the matter to which he alluded,
but he took from his pocket a memorandum book, and from it extracted some
printed papers.
"The communication was so curious," he said, "that I cut it out of the
old volume in which it appeared, and kept it ever since."
"Pray," said Mr. Smith, "what was the name of your distant relation, the
medical man?"
"Chillingworth."
"Oh, indeed; an odd name rather, I don't recollect ever hearing of it."
"No, sir, it is not likely you should. Dr. Chillingworth has been dead
many years, and no one else of his name is at present in the medical
profession to my knowledge. But you shall hear, at all events, what he says
about it."
The doctor then opened the folded paper, and read as follows: —
"Notwithstanding the incredulity that has been shown regarding vampyres,
I am in a condition from my own knowledge to own the existence of one, I think
he is dead now. His name was Varney, at least that was the name he went by,
and he came strangely enought under my observation, in connection with some
dear friends of mine named B-—"
"Is that all?" said Mr. Smith.
"Not quite," replied Dr. North, "He goes on to say that but for touching
the feeling of living persons, he could and would unfold some curious
particulars respecting vampyres, and that if he lived long enough he will
perhaps do so, by which I suppose he meant if he outlived the parties whose
feelings he was afraid of hurting by any premature disclosures."
"And—and," faltered Sir George, "do you draw a conclusion from all
that, that my daughter has been visited by one of these persons—surely not."
"May be, Sir George; I draw no conclusions at all, I merely throw out the
matter for your consideration. It is always worth while considering these
matters in any possible aspect. That is all."
"A most horrible aspect," said Sir George.
"Truly dreadful," said Mr. Smith.
"This shall be settled," said Charles, "Edwin and I will take upon
ourselves to-morrow night to set this question completely at rest."
At this moment there was a loud cry of "Help, help, help," in the voice
of Emma, and they all rushed up stairs with great speed.
"Oh, this way, this way," she cried, meeting them at the head of the
stairs. "Come to Clara."
They followed her, and when they reached the room, they found to their
horror and surprise that Clara was dead!
—