pretence of being the friend of
the Bannerworth family, would freely have inflicted upon them the most
deadly injuries.

It was quite clear that he was most dreadfully disappointed that Sir
Francis Varney, would not permit him to take the life of Charles
Holland, and it was with a gloomy and dissatisfied air that he left the
ruins to proceed towards the town, after what we may almost term the
altercation he had had with Varney the vampyre upon that subject.

It must not be supposed that Sir Francis Varney, however, was blind to
the danger which must inevitably accrue from permitting Charles Holland
once more to obtain his liberty.

What the latter would be able to state would be more than sufficient to
convince the Bannerworths, and all interested in their fortunes, that
something was going on of a character, which, however, supernatural it
might seem to be, still seemed to have some human and ordinary objects
for its ends.

Sir Francis Varney thought over all this before he proceeded, according
to his promise, to the dungeon of the prisoner; but it would seem as if
there was considerable difficulty, even to an individual of his long
practice in all kinds of chicanery and deceit, in arriving at any
satisfactory conclusion, as to a means of making Charles Holland's
release a matter of less danger to himself, than it would be likely to
be, if, unfettered by obligation, he was at once set free.

At the solemn hour of midnight, while all was still, that is, to say, on
the night succeeding the one, on which he had had the interview with
Marchdale, we have recorded, Sir Francis Varney alone sought the silent
ruins. He was attired, as usual, in his huge cloak, and, indeed, the
chilly air of the evening warranted such protection against its numerous
discomforts.

Had any one seen him, however, that evening, they would have observed an
air of great doubt, and irresolution upon his brow, as if he were
struggling with some impulses which he found it extremely difficult to
restrain.

"I know well," he muttered, as he walked among the shadow of the ruins,
"that Marchdale's reasoning is coldly and horribly correct, when he says
that there is danger in setting this youth free; but, I am about to
leave this place, and not to show myself for some time, and I cannot
reconcile myself to inflicting upon him the horror of a death by
starvation, which must ensue."

It was a night of more than usual dullness, and, as Sir Francis Var