as gone to Bannerworth Hall, so that you may not see
anything of him for some time."

CHAPTER LXVIII.

MARCHDALE'S ATTEMPTED VILLANY, AND THE RESULT.

[Illustration]

Varney the vampyre left the dungeon of Charles Holland amid the grey
ruins, with a perfect confidence the young man would keep his word, and
not attempt to escape from that place until the time had elapsed which
he had dictated to him.

And well might he have that confidence, for having once given his word
that he would remain until he heard the clock strike two from a
neighbouring church, Charles Holland never dreamt for a moment of
breaking it.

To be sure it was a weary time to wait when liberty appeared before him;
but he was the soul of honour, and the least likely man in all the world
to infringe in the slightest upon the condition which he had, of his own
free will, acceded to.

Sir Francis Varney walked rapidly until he came nearly to the outskirts
of the town, and then he slackened his pace, proceeding more cautiously,
and looking carefully about him, as if he feared to meet any one who
might recognise him.

He had not proceeded far in this manner, when be became conscious of the
cautious figure of a man gliding along in the opposite direction to that
which he was taking.

A suspicion struck him, from the general appearance, that it was
Marchdale, and if so he wondered to see him abroad at such a time. Still
he would not be quite certain; but he hurried forward, so as to meet the
advancing figure, and then his suspicions were confirmed; and Marchdale,
with some confusion in his looks and manners, accosted him.

"Ah, Sir Francis Varney," he said, "you are out late."--

"Why, you know I should be out late," said Varney, "and you likewise
know the errand upon which I was to be out."

"Oh, I recollect; you were to release your prisoner."--

"Yes, I was."

"And have you done so?"--

"Oh, no."

"Oh, indeed. I--I am glad you have taken better thoughts of it. Good
night--good night; we shall meet to-morrow."--

"Adieu," said Sir Francis Varney; and he watched the retreating figure
of Marchdale, and then he added, in a low tone to himself,--

"I know his object well. His craven spirit shrinks at the notion, a
probable enough one, I will admit, that Charles Holland has recognised
him, and that, if once free, he would denounce him to the Bannerworths,
holding him up to scorn in his true colours, and bringing down upon his
hea