se
remonstrances while those who were more distant heard them not, and, for
all they knew, he might be urging the crowd on to violence, instead of
deprecating it.
Thus, then, this disorderly rabble soon reached the house of Sir Francis
Varney and loudly demanded of his terrified servant where he was to be
found.
The knocking at the Hall door was prodigious, and, with a laudable
desire, doubtless, of saving time, the moment one was done amusing
himself with the ponderous knocker, another seized it; so that until the
door was flung open by some of the bewildered and terrified men, there
was no cessation whatever of the furious demands for admittance.
"Varney the vampyre--Varney the vampyre!" cried a hundred voices. "Death
to the vampyre! Where is he? Bring him out. Varney the vampyre!"
The servants were too terrified to speak for some moments, as they saw
such a tumultuous assemblage seeking their master, while so singular a
name was applied to him. At length, one more bold than the rest
contrived to stammer out,--
"My good people, Sir Francis Varney is not at home. He took an early
breakfast, and has been out nearly an hour."
The mob paused a moment in indecision, and then one of the foremost
cried,--
"Who'd suppose they'd own he was at home? He's hiding somewhere of
course; let's pull him out."
"Ah, pull him out--pull him out!" cried many voices. A rush was made
into the hall and in a very few minutes its chambers were ransacked, and
all its hidden places carefully searched, with the hope of discovering
the hidden form of Sir Francis Varney.
The servants felt that, with their inefficient strength, to oppose the
proceedings of an assemblage which seemed to be unchecked by all sort of
law or reason, would be madness; they therefore only looked on, with
wonder and dismay, satisfied certainly in their own minds that Sir
Francis would not be found, and indulging in much conjecture as to what
would be the result of such violent and unexpected proceedings.
Mr. Chillingworth hoped that time was being gained, and that some sort
of indication of what was going on would reach the unhappy object of
popular detestation sufficiently early to enable him to provide for his
own safety.
He knew he was breaking his own engagement to be present at the duel
between Henry Bannerworth and Sir Francis Varney, and, as that thought
recurred to him, he dreaded that his professional services might be
required on one side
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