The Vampyre; a Tale
their nocturnal orgies, and denounced the most heavy evils as
impending upon him who dared to cross their path. Aubrey made light of
their representations, and tried to laugh them out of the idea; but
when he saw them shudder at his daring thus to mock a superior,
infernal power, the very name of which apparently made their blood
freeze, he was silent.
Next morning Aubrey set off upon his excursion unattended; he was
surprised to observe the melancholy face of his host, and was
concerned to find that his words, mocking the belief of those horrible
fiends, had inspired them with such terror. When he was about to
depart, Ianthe came to the side of his horse, and earnestly begged of
him to return, ere night allowed the power of these beings to be put
in action;--he promised. He was, however, so occupied in his
research, that he did not perceive that day-light would soon end, and
that in the horizon there was one of those specks which, in the warmer
climates, so rapidly gather into a tremendous mass, and pour all their
rage upon the devoted country.--He at last, however, mounted his
horse, determined to make up by speed for his delay: but it was too
late. Twilight, in these southern climates, is almost unknown;
immediately the sun sets, night begins: and ere he had advanced far,
the power of the storm was above--its echoing thunders had scarcely
an interval of rest--its thick heavy rain forced its way through the
canopying foliage, whilst the blue forked lightning seemed to fall and
radiate at his very feet. Suddenly his horse took fright, and he was
carried with dreadful rapidity through the entangled forest. The
animal at last, through fatigue, stopped, and he found, by the glare
of lightning, that he was in the neighbourhood of a hovel that hardly
lifted itself up from the masses of dead leaves and brushwood which
surrounded it. Dismounting, he approached, hoping to find some one to
guide him to the town, or at least trusting to obtain shelter from the
pelting of the storm. As he approached, the thunders, for a moment
silent, allowed him to hear the dreadful shrieks of a woman mingling
with the stifled, exultant mockery of a laugh, continued in one almost
unbroken sound;--he was startled: but, roused by the thunder which
again rolled over his head, he, with a sudden effort, forced open the
door of the hut. He found himself in utter darkness: the sound,
however, guided him. He was apparently unperceived; for, though he
called, still the sounds continued, and no notice was taken of him. He
found himself in contact with some one, whom he immediately seized;
when a voice cried, "Again baffled!" to which a loud laugh succeeded;
and he felt himself grappled by one whose strength seemed superhuman:
determined to sell his life as dearly as he could, he struggled; but
it was in vain: he was lifted from his feet and hurled with enormous
force against the ground:--his enemy threw himself upon him, and
kneeling upon his breast, had placed his hands upon his throat--when
the glare of many torches penetrating through the hole that gave
light in the day, disturbed him;--he instantly rose, and, leaving his
prey, rushed through the door, and in a moment the crashing of the
branches, as he broke through the wood, was no longer heard. The storm
was now still; and Aubrey, incapable of moving, was soon heard by
those without. They entered; the light of their torches fell upon the
mud walls, and the thatch loaded on every individual straw with heavy
flakes of soot. At the desire of Aubrey they searched for her who had
attracted him by her cries; he was again left in darkness; but what
was his horror, when the light of the torches once more burst upon
him, to perceive the airy form of his fair conductress brought in a
lifeless corse. He shut his eyes, hoping that it was but a vision
arising from his disturbed imagination; but he again saw the same
form, when he unclosed them, stretched by his side. There was no
colour upon her cheek, not even upon her lip; yet there was a
stillness about her face that seemed almost as attaching as the life
that once dwelt there:--upon her neck and breast was blood, and upon
her throat were the marks of teeth having opened the vein:--to this
the men pointed, crying, simultaneously struck with horror, "A
Vampyre! a Vampyre!" A litter was quickly formed, and Aubrey was laid
by the side of her who had lately been to him the object of so many
bright and fairy visions, now fallen with the flower of life that had
died within her. He knew not what his thoughts were--his mind was
benumbed and seemed to shun reflection, and take refuge in
vacancy--he held almost unconsciously in his hand a naked dagger of a
particular construction, which had been found in the hut. They were
soon met by different parties who had been engaged in the search of
her whom a mother had missed. Their lamentable cries, as they
approached the city, forewarned the parents of some dreadful
catastrophe. --To describe their grief would be impossible; but when
they ascertained the cause of their child's death, they looked at
Aubrey, and pointed to the corse. They were inconsolable; both died
broken-hearted.
Aubrey being put to bed was seized with a most violent fever, and was
often delirious; in these intervals he would call upon Lord Ruthven
and upon Ianthe--by some unaccountable combination he seemed to beg
of his former companion to spare the being he loved. At other times he
would imprecate maledictions upon his head, and curse him as her
destroyer. Lord Ruthven, chanced at this time to arrive at Athens,
and, from whatever motive, upon hearing of the state of Aubrey,
immediately placed himself in the same house, and became his constant
attendant. When the latter recovered from his delirium, he was
horrified and startled at the sight of him whose image he had now
combined with that of a Vampyre; but Lord Ruthven, by his kind words,
implying almost repentance for the fault that had caused their
separation, and still more by the attention, anxiety, and care which
he showed, soon reconciled him to his presence. His lordship seemed
quite changed; he no longer appeared that apathetic being who had so
astonished Aubrey; but as soon as his convalescence began to be rapid,
he again gradually retired into the same state of mind, and Aubrey
perceived no difference from the former man, except that at times he
was surprised to meet his gaze fixed intently upon him, with a smile
of malicious exultation playing upon his lips: he knew not why, but
this smile haunted him. During the last stage of the invalid's
recovery, Lord Ruthven was apparently engaged in watching the tideless
waves raised by the cooling breeze, or in marking the progress of
those orbs, circling, like our world, the moveless sun;--indeed, he
appeared to wish to avoid the eyes of all.
Aubrey's mind, by this shock, was much weakened, and that elasticity
of spirit which had once so distinguished him now seemed to have fled
for ever. He was now as much a lover of solitude and silence as Lord
Ruthven; but much as he wished for solitude, his mind could not find
it in the neighbourhood of Athens; if he sought it amidst the ruins he
had formerly frequented, Ianthe's form stood by his side--if he
sought it in the woods, her light step would appear wandering amidst
the underwood, in quest of the modest violet; then suddenly turning
round, would show, to his wild imagination, her pale face and wounded
throat, with a meek smile upon her lips. He determined to fly scenes,
every feature of which created such bitter associations in his mind.
He proposed to Lord Ruthven, to whom he held himself bound by the
tender care he had taken of him during his illness, that they should
visit those parts of Greece neither had yet seen. They travelled in
every direction, and sought every spot to which a recollection could
be attached: but though they thus hastened from place to place, yet
they seemed not to heed what they gazed upon. They heard much of
robbers, but they gradually began to slight these reports, which they
imagined were only the invention of individuals, whose interest it was
to excite the generosity of those whom they defended from pretended
dangers. In consequence of thus neglecting the advice of the
inhabitants, on one occasion they travelled with only a few guards,
more to serve as guides than as a defence. Upon entering, however, a
narrow defile, at the bottom of which was the bed of a torrent, with
large masses of rock brought down from the neighbouring precipices,
they had reason to repent their negligence; for scarcely were the
whole of the party engaged in the narrow pass, when they were startled
by the whistling of bullets close to their heads, and by the echoed
report of several guns. In an instant their guards had left them, and,
placing themselves behind rocks, had begun to fire in the direction
whence the report came. Lord Ruthven and Aubrey, imitating their
example, retired for a moment behind the sheltering turn of the
defile: but ashamed of being thus detained by a foe, who with
insulting shouts bade them advance, and being exposed to unresisting
slaughter, if any of the robbers should climb above and take them in
the rear, they determined at once to rush forward in search of the
enemy. Hardly had they lost the shelter of the rock, when Lord Ruthven
received a shot in the shoulder, which brought him to the ground.
Aubrey hastened to his assistance; and, no longer heeding the contest
or his own peril, was soon surprised by seeing the robbers' faces
around him--his guards having, upon Lord Ruthven's being wounded,
immediately thrown up their arms and surrendered.
By promises of great reward, Aubrey soon induced them to convey his
wounded friend to a neighbouring cabin; and having agreed upon a
ransom, he was no more disturbed by their presence--they being
content merely to guard the entrance till their comrade should return
with the promised sum, for which he had an order. Lord Ruthven's
strength rapidly decreased; in two days mortification ensued, and
death seemed advancing with hasty steps. His conduct and appearance
had not changed; he seemed as unconscious of pain as he had been of
the objects about him: but towards the close of the last evening, his
mind became apparently uneasy, and his eye often fixed upon Aubrey,
who was induced to offer his assistance with more than usual
earnestness--"Assist me! you may save me--you may do more than
that--I mean not my life, I heed the death of my existence as little
as that of the passing day; but you may save my honour, your friend's
honour."--"How? tell me how? I would do any thing," replied Aubrey.--"I
need but little--my life ebbs apace--I cannot explain the
whole--but if you would conceal all you know of me, my honour were
free from stain in the world's mouth--and if my death were unknown
for some time in England--I--I--but life."--"It shall not be
known."--"Swear!" cried the dying man, raising himself with exultant
violence, "Swear by all your soul reveres, by all your nature fears,
swear that, for a year and a day you will not impart your knowledge of
my crimes or death to any living being in any way, whatever may
happen, or whatever you may see. "--His eyes seemed bursting from
their sockets: "I swear!" said Aubrey; he sunk laughing upon his
pillow, and breathed no more.
Aubrey retired to rest, but did not sleep; the many circumstances
attending his acquaintance with this man rose upon his mind, and he
knew not why; when he remembered his oath a cold shivering came over
him, as if from the presentiment of something horrible awaiting him.
Rising early in the morning, he was about to enter the hovel in which
he had left the corpse, when a robber met him, and informed him that