Vampires vs. Werewolves – Ultimate Collection. Редьярд Джозеф Киплинг
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not too readily yield belief in so dreadful a supposition, I pray you."
"Yield belief!" exclaimed Henry, as he rose, and lifted up one of his hands above his head. "No; by Heaven, and the great God of all, who there rules, I will not easily believe aught so awful and so monstrous."
"I applaud your sentiment, Henry; not willingly would I deliver up myself to so frightful a belief—it is too horrible. I merely have told you of that which you saw was on my mind. You have surely before heard of such things."
"I have—I have."
"I much marvel, then, that the supposition did not occur to you, Henry."
"It did not—it did not, Marchdale. It—it was too dreadful, I suppose, to find a home in my heart. Oh! Flora, Flora, if this horrible idea should once occur to you, reason cannot, I am quite sure, uphold you against it."
"Let no one presume to insinuate it to her, Henry. I would not have it mentioned to her for worlds."
"Nor I—nor I. Good God! I shudder at the very thought—the mere possibility; but there is no possibility, there can be none. I will not believe it."
"Nor I."
"No; by Heaven's justice, goodness, grace, and mercy, I will not believe it."
"Tis well sworn, Henry; and now, discarding the supposition that Flora has been visited by a vampyre, let us seriously set about endeavouring, if we can, to account for what has happened in this house."
"I—I cannot now."
"Nay, let us examine the matter; if we can find any natural explanation, let us cling to it, Henry, as the sheet-anchor of our very souls."
"Do you think. You are fertile in expedients. Do you think, Marchdale; and, for Heaven's sake, and for the sake of our own peace, find out some other way of accounting for what has happened, than the hideous one you have suggested."
"And yet my pistol bullets hurt him not; he has left the tokens of his presence on the neck of Flora."
"Peace, oh! peace. Do not, I pray you, accumulate reasons why I should receive such a dismal, awful superstition. Oh, do not, Marchdale, as you love me!"
"You know that my attachment to you," said Marchdale, "is sincere; and yet, Heaven help us!"
His voice was broken by grief as he spoke, and he turned aside his head to hide the bursting tears that would, despite all his efforts, show themselves in his eyes.
"Marchdale," added Henry, after a pause of some moments' duration, "I will sit up to-night with my sister."
"Do—do!"
"Think you there is a chance it may come again?"
"I cannot—I dare not speculate upon the coming of so dreadful a visitor, Henry; but I will hold watch with you most willingly."
"You will, Marchdale?"
"My hand upon it. Come what dangers may, I will share them with you, Henry."
"A thousand thanks. Say nothing, then, to George of what we have been talking about. He is of a highly susceptible nature, and the very idea of such a thing would kill him."
"I will; be mute. Remove your sister to some other chamber, let me beg of you, Henry; the one she now inhabits will always be suggestive of horrible thoughts."
"I will; and that dreadful-looking portrait, with its perfect likeness to him who came last night."
"Perfect indeed. Do you intend to remove it?"
"I do not. I thought of doing so; but it is actually on the panel in the wall, and I would not willingly destroy it, and it may as well remain where it is in that chamber, which I can readily now believe will become henceforward a deserted one in this house."
"It may well become such."
"Who comes here? I hear a step."
There was a tip at the door at this moment, and George made his appearance in answer to the summons to come in. He looked pale and ill; his face betrayed how much he had mentally suffered during that night, and almost directly he got into the bed-chamber he said—
"I shall, I am sure, be censured by you both for what I am going to say; but I cannot help saying it, nevertheless, for to keep it to myself would destroy me."
"Good God, George! what is it?" said Mr. Marchdale.
"Speak it out!" said Henry.
"I have been thinking of what has occurred here, and the result of that thought has been one of the wildest suppositions that ever I thought I should have to entertain. Have you never heard of a vampyre?"
Henry sighed deeply, and Marchdale was silent.
"I say a vampyre," added George, with much excitement in his manner. "It is a fearful, a horrible supposition; but our poor, dear Flora has been visited by a vampyre, and I shall go completely mad!"
He sat down, and covering his face with his hands, he wept bitterly and abundantly.
"George," said Henry, when he saw that the frantic grief had in some measure abated—"be calm, George, and endeavour to listen to me."
"I hear, Henry."
"Well, then, do not suppose that you are the only one in this house to whom so dreadful a superstition has occurred."
"Not the only one?"
"No; it has occurred to Mr. Marchdale also."
"Gracious Heaven!"
"He mentioned it to me; but we have both agreed to repudiate it with horror."
"To—repudiate—it?"
"Yes, George."
"And yet—and yet—"
"Hush, hush! I know what you would say. You would tell us that our repudiation of it cannot affect the fact. Of that we are aware; but yet will we disbelieve that which a belief in would be enough to drive us mad."
"What do you intend to do?"
"To keep this supposition to ourselves, in the first place; to guard it most zealously from the ears of Flora."
"Do you think she has ever heard of vampyres?"
"I never heard her mention that in all her reading she had gathered even a hint of such a fearful superstition. If she has, we must be guided by circumstances, and do the best we can."
"Pray Heaven she may not!"
"Amen to that prayer, George," said Henry. "Mr. Marchdale and I intend to keep watch over Flora to-night."
"May not I join you?"
"Your health, dear George, will not permit you to engage in such matters. Do you seek your natural repose, and leave it to us to do the best we can in this most fearful and terrible emergency."
"As you please, brother, and as you please, Mr. Marchdale. I know I am a frail reed, and my belief is that this affair will kill me quite. The truth is, I am horrified—utterly and frightfully horrified. Like my poor, dear sister, I do not believe I shall ever sleep again."
"Do not fancy that, George," said Marchdale. "You very much add to the uneasiness which must be your poor mother's portion, by allowing this circumstance to so much affect you. You well know her affection for you all, and let me therefore, as a very old friend of hers, entreat you to wear as cheerful an aspect as you can in her presence."
"For once in my life," said George, sadly, "I will; to my dear mother, endeavour to play the hypocrite."
"Do so," said Henry. "The motive will sanction any such deceit as that, George, be assured."
The day wore on, and Poor Flora remained in a very precarious situation. It was not until mid-day that Henry made up his mind he would