CHAPTER VII.
THE VISIT TO THE VAULT OF THE BANNERWORTHS, AND ITS UNPLEASANT RESULT.—THE MYSTERY.
Henry and his brother roused Flora, and after agreeing together that it would be highly imprudent to say anything to her of the proceedings of the night, they commenced a conversation with her in encouraging and kindly accents.
"Well, Flora," said Henry, "you see you have been quite undisturbed to-night."
"I have slept long, dear Henry."
"You have, and pleasantly too, I hope."
"I have not had any dreams, and I feel much refreshed, now, and quite well again."
"Thank Heaven!" said George.
"If you will tell dear mother that I am awake, I will get up with her assistance."
The brothers left the room, and they spoke to each other of it as a favourable sign, that Flora did not object to being left alone now, as she had done on the preceding morning.
"She is fast recovering, now, George," said Henry. "If we could now but persuade ourselves that all this alarm would pass away, and that we should hear no more of it, we might return to our old and comparatively happy condition."
"Let us believe, Henry, that we shall."
"And yet, George, I shall not be satisfied in my mind, until I have paid a visit."
"A visit? Where?"
"To the family vault."
"Indeed, Henry! I thought you had abandoned that idea."
"I had. I have several times abandoned it; but it comes across my mind again and again."
"I much regret it."
"Look you, George; as yet, everything that has happened has tended to confirm a belief in this most horrible of all superstitions concerning vampyres."
"It has."
"Now, my great object, George, is to endeavour to disturb such a state of things, by getting something, however slight, or of a negative character, for the mind to rest upon on the other side of the question."
"I comprehend you, Henry."
"You know that at present we are not only led to believe, almost irresistibly that we have been visited here by a vampyre but that that vampyre is our ancestor, whose portrait is on the panel of the wall of the chamber into which he contrived to make his way."
"True, most true."
"Then let us, by an examination of the family vault, George, put an end to one of the evidences. If we find, as most surely we shall, the coffin of the ancestor of ours, who seems, in dress and appearance, so horribly mixed up in this affair, we shall be at rest on that head."
"But consider how many years have elapsed."
"Yes, a great number."
"What then, do you suppose, could remain of any corpse placed in a vault so long ago?"
"Decomposition must of course have done its work, but still there must be a something to show that a corpse has so undergone the process common to all nature. Double the lapse of time surely could not obliterate all traces of that which had been."
"There is reason in that, Henry."
"Besides, the coffins are all of lead, and some of stone, so that they cannot have all gone."
"True, most true."
"If in the one which, from the inscription and the date, we discover to be that of our ancestor whom we seek, we find the evident remains of a corpse, we shall be satisfied that he has rested in his tomb in peace."
"Brother, you seem bent on this adventure," said George; "if you go, I will accompany you."
"I will not engage rashly in it, George. Before I finally decide, I will again consult with Mr. Marchdale. His opinion will weigh much with me."
"And in good time, here he comes across the garden," said George, as he looked from the window of the room in which they sat.
It was Mr. Marchdale, and the brothers warmly welcomed him as he entered the apartment.
"You have been early afoot," said Henry.
"I have," he said. "The fact is, that although at your solicitation I went to bed, I could not sleep, and I went out once more to search about the spot where we had seen the—the I don't know what to call it, for I have a great dislike to naming it a vampyre."
"There is not much in a name," said George.
"In this instance there is," said Marchdale. "It is a name suggestive of horror."
"Made you any discovery?" said Henry.
"None whatever."
"You saw no trace of any one?"
"Not the least."
"Well, Mr. Marchdale, George and I were talking over this projected visit to the family vault."
"Yes."
"And we agreed to suspend our judgments until we saw you, and learned your opinion."
"Which I will tell you frankly," said Mr. Marchdale, "because I know you desire it freely."
"Do so."
"It is, that you make the visit."
"Indeed."
"Yes, and for this reason. You have now, as you cannot help having, a disagreeable feeling, that you may find that one coffin is untenanted. Now, if you do find it so, you scarcely make matters worse, by an additional confirmation of what already amounts to a strong supposition, and one which is likely to grow stronger by time."
"True, most true."
"On the contrary, if you find indubitable proofs that your ancestor has slept soundly in the tomb, and gone the way of all flesh, you will find yourselves much calmer, and that an attack is made upon the train of events which at present all run one way."
"That is precisely the argument I was using to George," said Henry, "a few moments since."
"Then let us go," said George, "by all means."
"It is so decided then," said Henry.
"Let it be done with caution," replied Mr. Marchdale.
"If any one can manage it, of course we can."
"Why should it not be done secretly and at night? Of course we lose nothing by making a night visit to a vault into which daylight, I presume, cannot penetrate."
"Certainly not."
"Then let it be at night."
"But we shall surely require the concurrence of some of the church authorities."
"Nay, I do not see that," interposed Mr. Marchdale. "It is the vault actually vested in and belonging to yourself you wish to visit, and, therefore, you have right to visit it in any manner or at any time that may be most suitable to yourself."
"But detection in a clandestine visit might produce unpleasant consequences."
"The church is old," said George, "and we could easily find means of getting into it. There is only one objection that I see, just now, and that is, that we leave Flora unprotected."
"We