her sweet presence, methinks I could then
drink on, on, on."

"Hark you, sir," cried Charles, "I can bear no more of this. We have had
in this house most horrible and damning evidence that there are such
things as vampyres."

"Have you really? I suppose you eat raw pork at supper, and so had the
nightmare?"

"A jest is welcome in its place, but pray hear me out, sir, if it suit
your lofty courtesy to do so."

"Oh, certainly."

"Then I say we believe, as far as human judgment has a right to go, that
a vampyre has been here."

"Go on, it's interesting. I always was a lover of the wild and the
wonderful."

"We have, too," continued Charles, "some reason to believe that you are
the man."

Varney tapped his forehead as he glanced at Henry, and said,--

"Oh, dear, I did not know. You should have told me he was a little wrong
about the brain; I might have quarreled with the lad. Dear me, how
lamentable for his poor mother."

"This will not do, Sir Francis Varney _alias_ Bannerworth."

"Oh--oh! Be calm--be calm."

"I defy you to your teeth, sir! No, God, no! Your teeth!"

"Poor lad! Poor lad!"

"You are a cowardly demon, and here I swear to devote myself to your
destruction."

Sir Francis Varney drew himself up to his full height, and that was
immense, as he said to Henry,--

"I pray you, Mr. Bannerworth, since I am thus grievously insulted
beneath your roof, to tell me if your friend here be mad or sane?"

"He's not mad."

"Then--"

"Hold, sir! The quarrel shall be mine. In the name of my persecuted
sister--in the name of Heaven. Sir Francis Varney, I defy you."

Sir Francis, in spite of his impenetrable calmness, appeared somewhat
moved, as he said,--

"I have already endured insult sufficient--I will endure no more. If
there are weapons at hand--"

"My young friend," interrupted Mr. Marchdale, stepping between the
excited men, "is carried away by his feelings, and knows not what he
says. You will look upon it in that light, Sir Francis."

"We need no interference," exclaimed Varney, his hitherto bland voice
changing to one of fury. "The hot blooded fool wishes to fight, and he
shall--to the death--to the death."

[Illustration]

"And I say he shall not," exclaimed Mr. Marchdale, taking Henry by the
arm. "George," he added, turning to the young man, "assist me in
persuading your brother to leave the room. Conceive the agony of your
sister and mother if anything should happen to him."

Var