Vampires vs. Werewolves – Ultimate Collection. Редьярд Джозеф Киплинг
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only vex yourself by such thoughts, Flora. Mr. Chillingworth is coming to see you."
"Can he minister to a mind diseased?"
"But yours is not, Flora. Your mind is healthful, and so, although his power extends not so far, we will thank Heaven, dear Flora, that you need it not."
She sighed deeply, as she said—
"Heaven help me! I know not, Henry. The dreadful being held on by my hair. I must have it all taken off. I tried to get away, but it dragged me back—a brutal thing it was. Oh, then at that moment, Henry, I felt as if something strange took place in my brain, and that I was going mad! I saw those glazed eyes close to, mine—I felt a hot, pestiferous breath upon my face—help—help!"
"Hush! my Flora, hush! Look at me."
"I am calm again. It fixed its teeth in my throat. Did I faint away?"
"You did, dear; but let me pray you to refer all this to imagination; or at least the greater part of it."
"But you saw it."
"Yes—"
"All saw it."
"We all saw some man—a housebreaker—It must have been some housebreaker. What more easy, you know, dear Flora, than to assume some such disguise?"
"Was anything stolen?"
"Not that I know of; but there was an alarm, you know."
Flora shook her head, as she said, in a low voice—
"That which came here was more than mortal. Oh, Henry, if it had but killed me, now I had been happy; but I cannot live—I hear it breathing now."
"Talk of something else, dear Flora," said the much distressed Henry; "you will make yourself much worse, if you indulge yourself in these strange fancies."
"Oh, that they were but fancies!"
"They are, believe me."
"There is a strange confusion in my brain, and sleep comes over me suddenly, when I least expect it. Henry, Henry, what I was, I shall never, never be again."
"Say not so. All this will pass away like a dream, and leave so faint a trace upon your memory, that the time will come when you will wonder it ever made so deep an impression on your mind."
"You utter these words, Henry," she said, "but they do not come from your heart. Ah, no, no, no! Who comes?"
The door was opened by Mrs. Bannerworth, who said—
"It is only me, my dear. Henry, here is Dr. Chillingworth in the dining-room."
Henry turned to Flora, saying—
"You will see him, dear Flora? You know Mr. Chillingworth well."
"Yes, Henry, yes, I will see him, or whoever you please."
"Shew Mr. Chillingworth up," said Henry to the servant.
In a few moments the medical man was in the room, and he at once approached the bedside to speak to Flora, upon whose pale countenance he looked with evident interest, while at the same time it seemed mingled with a painful feeling—at least so his own face indicated.
"Well, Miss Bannerworth," he said, "what is all this I hear about an ugly dream you have had?"
"A dream?" said Flora, as she fixed her beautiful eyes on his face.
"Yes, as I understand."
She shuddered, and was silent.
"Was it not a dream, then?" added Mr. Chillingworth.
She wrung her hands, and in a voice of extreme anguish and pathos, said—
"Would it were a dream—would it were a dream! Oh, if any one could but convince me it was a dream!"
"Well, will you tell me what it was?"
"Yes, sir, it was a vampyre."
Mr. Chillingworth glanced at Henry, as he said, in reply to Flora's words—
"I suppose that is, after all, another name, Flora, for the nightmare?"
"No—no—no!"
"Do you really, then, persist in believing anything so absurd, Miss Bannerworth?"
"What can I say to the evidence of my own senses?" she replied. "I saw it, Henry saw it, George saw, Mr. Marchdale, my mother—all saw it. We could not all be at the same time the victims of the same delusion."
"How faintly you speak."
"I am very faint and ill."
"Indeed. What wound is that on your neck?"
A wild expression came over the face of Flora; a spasmodic action of the muscles, accompanied with a shuddering, as if a sudden chill had come over the whole mass of blood took place, and she said—
"It is the mark left by the teeth of the vampyre."
The smile was a forced one upon the face of Mr. Chillingworth.
"Draw up the blind of the window, Mr. Henry," he said, "and let me examine this puncture to which your sister attaches so extraordinary a meaning."
The blind was drawn up, and a strong light was thrown into the room. For full two minutes Mr. Chillingworth attentively examined the two small wounds in the neck of Flora. He took a powerful magnifying glass from his pocket, and looked at them through it, and after his examination was concluded, he said—
"They are very trifling wounds, indeed."
"But how inflicted?" said Henry.
"By some insect, I should say, which probably—it being the season for many insects—has flown in at the window."
"I know the motive," said Flora "which prompts all these suggestions it is a kind one, and I ought to be the last to quarrel with it; but what I have seen, nothing can make me believe I saw not, unless I am, as once or twice I have thought myself, really mad."
"How do you now feel in general health?"
"Far from well; and a strange drowsiness at times creeps over me. Even now I feel it."
She sunk back on the pillows as she spoke and closed her eyes with a deep sigh.
Mr. Chillingworth beckoned Henry to come with him from the room, but the latter had promised that he would remain with Flora; and as Mrs. Bannerworth had left the chamber because she was unable to control her feelings, he rang the bell, and requested that his mother would come.
She did so, and then Henry went down stairs along with the medical man, whose opinion he was certainly eager to be now made acquainted with.
As soon as they were alone in an old-fashioned room which was called the oak closet, Henry turned to Mr. Chillingworth, and said—
"What, now, is your candid opinion, sir? You have seen my sister, and those strange indubitable evidences of something wrong."
"I have; and to tell you candidly the truth, Mr. Henry, I am sorely perplexed."
"I thought you would be."
"It is not often that a medical man likes to say so much, nor is it, indeed, often prudent that he should do so, but in this case I own I am much puzzled. It is contrary to all my notions upon all such subjects."
"Those wounds, what do you think of them?"
"I know not what to think. I am completely puzzled as regards them."
"But, but do they not really bear the appearance of being bites?"
"They really do."
"And so far, then, they are actually in favour of