The Vampyre; a Tale
it was no longer there, having been conveyed by himself and comrades,
upon his retiring, to the pinnacle of a neighbouring mount, according
to a promise they had given his lordship, that it should be exposed to
the first cold ray of the moon that rose after his death. Aubrey
astonished, and taking several of the men, determined to go and bury
it upon the spot where it lay. But, when he had mounted to the summit
he found no trace of either the corpse or the clothes, though the
robbers swore they pointed out the identical rock on which they had
laid the body. For a time his mind was bewildered in conjectures, but
he at last returned, convinced that they had buried the corpse for the
sake of the clothes.
Weary of a country in which he had met with such terrible misfortunes,
and in which all apparently conspired to heighten that superstitious
melancholy that had seized upon his mind, he resolved to leave it, and
soon arrived at Smyrna. While waiting for a vessel to convey him to
Otranto, or to Naples, he occupied himself in arranging those effects
he had with him belonging to Lord Ruthven. Amongst other things there
was a case containing several weapons of offence, more or less adapted
to ensure the death of the victim. There were several daggers and
ataghans. Whilst turning them over, and examining their curious forms,
what was his surprise at finding a sheath apparently ornamented in the
same style as the dagger discovered in the fatal hut--he
shuddered--hastening to gain further proof, he found the weapon, and
his horror may be imagined when he discovered that it fitted, though
peculiarly shaped, the sheath he held in his hand. His eyes seemed to
need no further certainty--they seemed gazing to be bound to the
dagger; yet still he wished to disbelieve; but the particular form,
the same varying tints upon the haft and sheath were alike in
splendour on both, and left no room for doubt; there were also drops
of blood on each.
He left Smyrna, and on his way home, at Rome, his first inquiries were
concerning the lady he had attempted to snatch from Lord Ruthven's
seductive arts. Her parents were in distress, their fortune ruined,
and she had not been heard of since the departure of his lordship.
Aubrey's mind became almost broken under so many repeated horrors; he
was afraid that this lady had fallen a victim to the destroyer of
Ianthe. He became morose and silent; and his only occupation consisted
in urging the speed of the postilions, as if he were going to save the
life of some one he held dear. He arrived at Calais; a breeze, which
seemed obedient to his will, soon wafted him to the English shores;
and he hastened to the mansion of his fathers, and there, for a
moment, appeared to lose, in the embraces and caresses of his sister,
all memory of the past. If she before, by her infantine caresses, had
gained his affection, now that the woman began to appear, she was
still more attaching as a companion.
Miss Aubrey had not that winning grace which gains the gaze and
applause of the drawing-room assemblies. There was none of that light
brilliancy which only exists in the heated atmosphere of a crowded
apartment. Her blue eye was never lit up by the levity of the mind
beneath. There was a melancholy charm about it which did not seem to
arise from misfortune, but from some feeling within, that appeared to
indicate a soul conscious of a brighter realm. Her step was not that
light footing, which strays where'er a butterfly or a colour may
attract--it was sedate and pensive. When alone, her face was never
brightened by the smile of joy; but when her brother breathed to her
his affection, and would in her presence forget those griefs she knew
destroyed his rest, who would have exchanged her smile for that of the
voluptuary? It seemed as if those eyes,--that face were then playing
in the light of their own native sphere. She was yet only eighteen,
and had not been presented to the world, it having been thought by her
guardians more fit that her presentation should be delayed until her
brother's return from the continent, when he might be her protector.
It was now, therefore, resolved that the next drawing-room, which was
fast approaching, should be the epoch of her entry into the "busy
scene." Aubrey would rather have remained in the mansion of his
fathers, and fed upon the melancholy which overpowered him. He could
not feel interest about the frivolities of fashionable strangers, when
his mind had been so torn by the events he had witnessed; but he
determined to sacrifice his own comfort to the protection of his
sister. They soon arrived in town, and prepared for the next day,
which had been announced as a drawing-room.
The crowd was excessive--a drawing-room had not been held for a long
time, and all who were anxious to bask in the smile of royalty,
hastened thither. Aubrey was there with his sister. While he was
standing in a corner by himself, heedless of all around him, engaged
in the remembrance that the first time he had seen Lord Ruthven was in
that very place--he felt himself suddenly seized by the arm, and a
voice he recognized too well, sounded in his ear--"Remember your
oath." He had hardly courage to turn, fearful of seeing a spectre
that would blast him, when he perceived, at a little distance, the
same figure which had attracted his notice on this spot upon his first
entry into society. He gazed till his limbs almost refusing to bear
their weight, he was obliged to take the arm of a friend, and forcing
a passage through the crowd, he threw himself into his carriage, and
was driven home. He paced the room with hurried steps, and fixed his
hands upon his head, as if he were afraid his thoughts were bursting
from his brain. Lord Ruthven again before him--circumstances started
up in dreadful array--the dagger--his oath.--He roused himself, he
could not believe it possible--the dead rise again!--He thought his
imagination had conjured up the image his mind was resting upon. It
was impossible that it could be real--he determined, therefore, to
go again into society; for though he attempted to ask concerning Lord
Ruthven, the name hung upon his lips, and he could not succeed in
gaining information. He went a few nights after with his sister to the
assembly of a near relation. Leaving her under the protection of a
matron, he retired into a recess, and there gave himself up to his own
devouring thoughts. Perceiving, at last, that many were leaving, he
roused himself, and entering another room, found his sister surrounded
by several, apparently in earnest conversation; he attempted to pass
and get near her, when one, whom he requested to move, turned round,
and revealed to him those features he most abhorred. He sprang
forward, seized his sister's arm, and, with hurried step, forced her
towards the street: at the door he found himself impeded by the crowd
of servants who were waiting for their lords; and while he was engaged
in passing them, he again heard that voice whisper close to
him--"Remember your oath!"--He did not dare to turn, but, hurrying his
sister, soon reached home.
Aubrey became almost distracted. If before his mind had been absorbed
by one subject, how much more completely was it engrossed, now that
the certainty of the monster's living again pressed upon his thoughts.
His sister's attentions were now unheeded, and it was in vain that she
intreated him to explain to her what had caused his abrupt conduct. He
only uttered a few words, and those terrified her. The more he
thought, the more he was bewildered. His oath startled him;--was he
then to allow this monster to roam, bearing ruin upon his breath,
amidst all he held dear, and not avert its progress? His very sister
might have been touched by him. But even if he were to break his oath,
and disclose his suspicions, who would believe him? He thought of
employing his own hand to free the world from such a wretch; but
death, he remembered, had been already mocked. For days he remained in
this state; shut up in his room, he saw no one, and ate only when his
sister came, who, with eyes streaming with tears, besought him, for
her sake, to support nature. At last, no longer capable of bearing
stillness and solitude, he left his house, roamed from street to
street, anxious to fly that image which haunted him. His dress became
neglected, and he wandered, as often exposed to the noon-day sun as to
the midnight damps. He was no longer to be recognized; at first he
returned with the evening to the house; but at last he laid him down
to rest wherever fatigue overtook him. His sister, anxious for his
safety, employed people to follow him; but they were soon distanced by
him who fled from a pursuer swifter than any--from thought. His
conduct, however, suddenly changed. Struck with the idea that he left
by his absence the whole of his friends, with a fiend amongst them, of
whose presence they were unconscious, he determined to enter again
into society, and watch him closely, anxious to forewarn, in spite of
his oath, all whom Lord Ruthven approached with intimacy. But when he
entered into a room, his haggard and suspicious looks were so
striking, his inward shudderings so visible, that his sister was at
last obliged to beg of him to abstain from seeking, for her sake, a
society which affected him so strongly. When, however, remonstrance
proved unavailing, the guardians thought proper to interpose, and,
fearing that his mind was becoming alienated, they thought it high
time to resume again that trust which had been before imposed upon
them by Aubrey's parents.
Desirous of saving him from the injuries and sufferings he had daily
encountered in his wanderings, and of preventing him from exposing to
the general eye those marks of what they considered folly, they
engaged a physician to reside in the house, and take constant care of
him. He hardly appeared to notice it, so completely was his mind
absorbed by one terrible subject. His incoherence became at last so
great, that he was confined to his chamber. There he would often lie
for days, incapable of being roused. He had become emaciated, his eyes
had attained a glassy lustre;--the only sign of affection and
recollection remaining displayed itself upon the entry of his sister;
then he would sometimes start, and, seizing her hands, with looks that
severely afflicted her, he would desire her not to touch him. "Oh, do
not touch him--if your love for me is aught, do not go near him!"
When, however, she inquired to whom he referred, his only answer was,
"True! true!" and again he sank into a state, whence not even she could
rouse him. This lasted many months: gradually, however, as the year
was passing, his incoherences became less frequent, and his mind threw
off a portion of its gloom, whilst his guardians observed, that
several times in the day he would count upon his fingers a definite
number, and then smile.
The time had nearly elapsed, when, upon the last day of the year, one
of his guardians entering his room, began to converse with his
physician upon the melancholy circumstance of Aubrey's being in so
awful a situation, when his sister was going next day to be married.
Instantly Aubrey's attention was attracted; he asked anxiously to
whom. Glad of this mark of returning intellect, of which they feared
he had been deprived, they mentioned the name of the Earl of Marsden.
Thinking this was a young Earl whom he had met with in society, Aubrey
seemed pleased, and astonished them still more by his expressing his
intention to be present at the nuptials, and desiring to see his
sister. They answered not, but in a few minutes his sister was with
him. He was apparently again capable of being affected by the
influence of her lovely smile; for he pressed her to his breast, and