It is something, surely, to alleviate
affliction, if we cannot entirely remove it."

"That is true," said Mr. Chillingworth, "to a considerable extent, but
then it takes too much for granted to please me."

"How so, sir?"

"Why, certainly, to remove from Bannerworth Hall is a much less evil
than to remain at Bannerworth Hall, and be haunted by a vampyre; but
then that proposition takes for granted that vampyre business, which I
will never grant. I repeat, again and again, it is contrary to all
experience, to philosophy, and to all the laws of ordinary nature."

"Facts are stubborn things," said Marchdale.

"Apparently," remarked Mr. Chillingworth.

"Well, sir; and here we have the fact of a vampyre."

"The presumed fact. One swallow don't make a summer, Mr. Marchdale."

"This is waste of time," said Henry--"of course, the amount of evidence
that will suffice to bring conviction to one man's mind will fail in
doing so to another. The question is, what are we to do?"

All eyes were turned upon Flora, as if this question was more
particularly addressed to her, and it behoved her, above all others, to
answer it. She did so; and in a firm, clear voice, she said,--

"I will discover the fate of Charles Holland, and then leave the Hall."

"The fate of Charles Holland!" said Marchdale. "Why, really, unless that
young gentleman chooses to be communicative himself upon so interesting
a subject, we may be a long while discovering his fate. I know that it
is not a romantic view to take of the question, to suppose simply that
he wrote the three letters found upon his dressing-table, and then
decamped; but to my mind, it savours most wonderfully of matter-of-fact.
I now speak more freely than I have otherwise done, for I am now upon
the eve of my departure. I have no wish to remain here, and breed
dissension in any family, or to run a tilt against anybody's
prejudices." Here he looked at Admiral Bell. "I leave this house
to-night."

"You're a d----d lubberly thief," said the admiral; "the sooner you
leave it the better. Why, you bad-looking son of a gun, what do you
mean? I thought we'd had enough of that."

"I fully expected this abuse," said Marchdale.

"Did you expect that?" said the admiral, as he snatched up an inkstand,
and threw at Marchdale, hitting him a hard knock on the chin, and
bespattering its contents on his breast. "Now I'll give you
satisfaction, you lubber. D--me, if you ain't a second Jones, and en