to say?"

"I have spoken the substance of my message. Much could I elaborate upon
such a theme; but it is not one, Varney, which is congenial to my heart;
for your sake, however, and for the sakes of those whom I hold most
dear, let me implore you to act in this matter with a kindly
consideration. Proclaim your motives; you cannot say that they are not
such as we may aid you in."

Varney was silent for several moments; he seemed perceptibly moved by
the manner of the young man, as well as by the matter of his discourse.
In fact, one would suppose that Charles Holland had succeeded in
investing what he said with some sort of charm that won much upon the
fancy of Sir Francis Varney, for when he ceased to speak, the latter
said in a low voice,--

"Go on, go on; you have surely much more to say."

"No, Varney; I have said enough, and not thus much would I have said had
I not been aware, most certainly and truly aware, without the shadow of
a doubt, by your manner, that you were most accessible to human
feeling."

"I accessible to human feeling! know you to whom you speak? Am I not he
before whom all men shudder, whose name has been a terror and a
desolation; and yet you can talk of my human feelings. Nay, if I had had
any, be sure they would have been extinguished by the persecutions I
have endured from those who, you know, with savage ferocity have sought
my life."

"No, Varney; I give you credit for being a subtler reasoner than thus to
argue; you know well that you were the aggressor to those parties who
sought your life; you know well that with the greatest imaginable pains
you held yourself up to them as a thing of great terror."

"I did--I did."

"You cannot, then, turn round upon ignorant persons, and blame them
because your exertions to make yourself seem what you wish were but too
successful."

"You use the word _seem_," said Varney, with a bitterness of aspect, "as
if you would imply a doubt that I am that which thousands, by their
fears, would testify me to be."

"Thousands might," said Charles Holland; "but not among them am I,
Varney; I will not be made the victim of superstition. Were you to enact
before my very eyes some of those feats which, to the senses of others,
would stamp you as the preternatural being you assume to be, I would
doubt the evidence of my own senses ere I permitted such a bugbear to
oppress my brain."

"Go," said Sir Francis Varney, "go: I have no more words for you; I hav