n knowledge to all--a sad theme to me, and one I would not court."

"Nor would I oppress you with it. Your father, here, on this very spot,
committed that desperate act which brought him uncalled for to the
judgment seat of God. I have a strange, wild curiosity upon such
subjects. Will you, in return for the good that I have tried to do you,
gratify it?"

"I know not what you mean," said Flora.

"To be more explicit, then, do you remember the day on which your father
breathed his last?"

"Too well--too well."

"Did you see him or converse with him shortly before that desperate act
was committed?"

"No; he shut himself up for some time in a solitary chamber."

"Ha! what chamber?"

"The one in which I slept myself on the night--"

"Yes, yes; the one with the portrait--that speaking portrait--the eyes
of which seem to challenge an intruder as he enters the apartment."

"The same."

"For hours shut up there!" added Varney, musingly; "and from thence he
wandered to the garden, where, in this summer-house, he breathed his
last?"

"It was so."

"Then, Flora, ere I bid you adieu--"

These words were scarcely uttered, when there was a quick, hasty
footstep, and Henry Bannerworth appeared behind Varney, in the very
entrance of the summer-house.

"Now," he cried, "for revenge! Now, foul being, blot upon the earth's
surface, horrible imitation of humanity, if mortal arm can do aught
against you, you shall die!"

A shriek came from the lips of Flora, and flinging herself past Varney,
who stepped aside, she clung to her brother, who made an unavailing pass
with his sword at the vampyre. It was a critical moment; and had the
presence of mind of Varney deserted him in the least, unarmed as he was,
he must have fallen beneath the weapon of Henry. To spring, however, up
the seat which Flora had vacated, and to dash out some of the flimsy and
rotten wood-work at the back of the summer-house by the propulsive power
of his whole frame, was the work of a moment; and before Henry could
free himself from the clinging embrace of Flora, Varney, the vampyre was
gone, and there was no greater chance of his capture than on a former
occasion, when he was pursued in vain from the Hall to the wood, in the
intricacies of which he was so entirely lost.

CHAPTER XXXV.

THE EXPLANATION.--MARCHDALE'S ADVICE.--THE PROJECTED REMOVAL, AND THE
ADMIRAL'S ANGER.

[Illustration]

This extremely sudden movement on the part of Va