It happened that in
the midst of the dissipations attendant upon a London winter, there
appeared at the various parties of the leaders of the ton a nobleman,
more remarkable for his singularities, than his rank. He gazed upon the
mirth around him, as if he could not participate therein. Apparently,
the light laughter of the fair only attracted his attention, that he
might by a look quell it, and throw fear into those breasts where
thoughtlessness reigned. Those who felt this sensation of awe, could not
explain whence it arose: some attributed it to the dead grey eye,
which, fixing upon the object's face, did not seem to penetrate, and at
one glance to pierce through to the inward workings of the heart; but
fell upon the cheek with a leaden ray that weighed upon the skin it
could not pass. His peculiarities caused him to be invited to every
house; all wished to see him, and those who had been accustomed to
violent excitement, and now felt the weight of ennui, were pleased at
having something in their presence capable of engaging their attention.
In spite of the deadly hue of his face, which never gained a warmer
tint, either from the blush of modesty, or from the strong emotion of
passion, though its form and outline were beautiful, many of the female
hunters after notoriety attempted to win his attentions, and gain, at
least, some marks of what they might term affection: Lady Mercer, who
had been the mockery of every monster shewn in drawing rooms since her
marriage, threw herself in his way, and did all but put on the dress of a
mountebank, to attract his notice: though in vain: when she stood
before him, though his eyes were apparently fixed upon her's, still it
seemed as if they were unperceived; even her unappalled impudence was
baffled, and she left the field. But though the common adultress could
not influence even the guidance of his eyes, it was not that the female
sex was indifferent to him: yet such was the apparent caution with which
he spoke to the virtuous wife and innocent daughter, that few knew he
ever addressed himself to females. He had, however, the reputation of a
winning tongue; and whether it was that it even overcame the dread of
his singular character, or that they were moved by his apparent hatred
of vice, he was as often among those females who form the boast of their
sex from their domestic virtues, as among those who sully it by their
vices.
About the same time,
there came to London a young gentleman of the name of Aubrey: he was an
orphan left with an only sister in the possession of great wealth, by
parents who died while he was yet in childhood. Left also to himself by
guardians, who thought it their duty merely to take care of his fortune,
while they relinquished the more important charge of his mind to the
care of mercenary subalterns, he cultivated more his imagination than
his judgment. He had, hence, that high romantic feeling of honour and
candour, which daily ruins so many milliners' apprentices. He believed
all to sympathise with virtue, and thought that vice was thrown in by
Providence merely for the picturesque effect of the scene, as we see in
romances: he thought that the misery of a cottage merely consisted in
the vesting of clothes, which were as warm, but which were better
adapted to the painter's eye by their irregular folds and various
coloured patches. He thought, in fine, that the dreams of poets were the
realities of life. He was handsome, frank, and rich: for these reasons,
upon his entering into the gay circles, many mothers surrounded him,
striving which should describe with least truth their languishing or
romping favourites: the daughters at the same time, by their brightening
countenances when he approached, and by their sparkling eyes, when he
opened his lips, soon led him into false notions of his talents and his
merit. Attached as he was to the romance of his solitary hours, he was
startled at finding, that, except in the tallow and wax candles that
flickered, not from the presence of a ghost, but from want of snuffing,
there was no foundation in real life for any of that congeries of
pleasing pictures and descriptions contained in those volumes, from
which he had formed his study. Finding, however, some compensation in
his gratified vanity, he was about to relinquish his dreams, when the
extraordinary being we have above described, crossed him in his career.
He watched him; and
the very impossibility of forming an idea of the character of a man
entirely absorbed in himself, who gave few other signs of his
observation of external objects, than the tacit assent to their
existence, implied by the avoidance of their contact: allowing his
imagination to picture every thing that flattered its propensity to
extravagant ideas, he soon formed this object into the hero of a
romance, and determined to observe the offspring of his fancy, rather
than the person before him. He became acquainted with him, paid him
attentions, and so far advanced upon his notice, that his presence was
always recognised. He gradually learnt that Lord Ruthven's affairs were
embarrassed, and soon found, from the notes of preparation in ---
Street, that he was about to travel. Desirous of gaining some
information respecting this singular character, who, till now, had only
whetted his curiosity, he hinted to his guardians, that it was time for
him to perform the tour, which for many generations has been thought
necessary to enable the young to take some rapid steps in the career of
vice towards putting themselves upon an equality with the aged, and not
allowing them to appear as if fallen from the skies, whenever scandalous
intrigues are mentioned as the subjects of pleasantry or of praise,
according to the degree of skill shewn in carrying them on. They
consented: and Aubrey immediately mentioning his intentions to Lord
Ruthven, was surprised to receive from him a proposal to join him.
Flattered by such a mark of esteem from him, who, apparently, had
nothing in common with other men, he gladly accepted it, and in a few
days they had passed the circling waters.
Hitherto, Aubrey had
had no opportunity of studying Lord Ruthven's character, and now he
found, that, though many more of his actions were exposed to his view,
the results offered different conclusions from the apparent motives to
his conduct. His companion was profuse in his liberality; the idle, the
vagabond, and the beggar, received from his hand more than enough to
relieve their immediate wants. But Aubrey could not avoid remarking,
that it was not upon the virtuous, reduced to indigence by the
misfortunes attendant even upon virtue, that he bestowed his alms; these
were sent from the door with hardly suppressed sneers; but when the
profligate came to ask something, not to relieve his wants, but to allow
him to wallow in his lust, or to sink him still deeper in his iniquity,
he was sent away with rich charity. This was, however, attributed by
him to the greater importunity of the vicious, which generally prevails
over the retiring bashfulness of the virtuous indigent. There was one
circumstance about the charity of his Lordship, which was still more
impressed upon his mind: all those upon whom it was bestowed, inevitably
found that there was a curse upon it, for they were all either led to
the scaffold, or sunk to the lowest and the most abject misery. At
Brussels and other towns through which they passed, Aubrey was surprized
at the apparent eagerness with which his companion sought for the
centres of all fashionable vice; there he entered into all the spirit of
the faro table: he betted, and always gambled with success, except
where the known sharper was his antagonist, and then he lost even more
than he gained; but it was always with the same unchanging face, with
which he generally watched the society around: it was not, however, so
when he encountered the rash youthful novice, or the luckless father of a
numerous family; then his very wish seemed fortune's law, this apparent
abstractedness of mind was laid aside, and his eyes sparkled with more
fire than that of the cat whilst dallying with the half-dead mouse. In
every town, he left the formerly affluent youth, torn from the circle he
adorned, cursing, in the solitude of a dungeon, the fate that had drawn
him within the reach of this fiend; whilst many a father sat frantic,
amidst the speaking looks of mute hungry children, without a single
farthing of his late immense wealth, wherewith to buy even sufficient to
satisfy their present craving. Yet he took no money from the gambling
table; but immediately lost, to the ruiner of many, the last gilder he
had just snatched from the convulsive grasp of the innocent: this might
but be the result of a certain degree of knowledge, which was not,
however, capable of combating the cunning of the more experienced.
Aubrey often wished to represent this to his friend, and beg him to
resign that charity and pleasure which proved the ruin of all, and did
not tend to his own profit; but he delayed it for each day he hoped his
friend would give him some opportunity of speaking frankly and openly to
him; however, this never occurred. Lord Ruthven in his carriage, and
amidst the various wild and rich scenes of nature, was always the same:
his eye spoke less than his lip; and though Aubrey was near the object
of his curiosity, he obtained no greater gratification from it than the
constant excitement of vainly wishing to break that mystery, which to
his exalted imagination began to assume the appearance of something
supernatural.
They soon arrived at
Rome, and Aubrey for a time lost sight of his companion; he left him in
daily attendance upon the morning circle of an Italian countess, whilst
he went in search of the memorials of another almost deserted city.
Whilst he was thus engaged, letters arrived from England, which he
opened with eager impatience; the first was from his sister, breathing
nothing but affection; the others were from his guardians, the latter
astonished him; if it had before entered into his imagination that there
was an evil power resident in his companion, these seemed to give him
sufficient reason for the belief. His guardians insisted upon his
immediately leaving his friend, and urged, that his character was
dreadfully vicious, for that the possession of irresistible powers of
seduction, rendered his licentious habits more dangerous to society. It
had been discovered, that his contempt for the adultress had not
originated in hatred of her character; but that he had required, to
enhance his gratification, that his victim, the partner of his guilt,
should be hurled from the pinnacle of unsullied virtue, down to the
lowest abyss of infamy and degradation: in fine, that all those females
whom he had sought, apparently on account of their virtue, had, since
his departure, thrown even the mask aside, and had not scrupled to
expose the whole deformity of their vices to the public gaze.
Aubrey determined
upon leaving one, whose character had not yet shown a single bright
point on which to rest the eye. He resolved to invent some plausible
pretext for abandoning him altogether, purposing, in the mean while, to
watch him more closely, and to let no slight circumstances pass by
unnoticed. He entered into the same circle, and soon perceived, that his
Lordship was endeavouring to work upon the inexperience of the daughter
of the lady whose house he chiefly frequented. In Italy, it is seldom
that an unmarried female is met with in society; he was therefore
obliged to carry on his plans in secret; but Aubrey's eye followed him
in all his windings, and soon discovered that an assignation had been
appointed, which would most likely end in the ruin of an innocent,
though thoughtless girl. Losing no time, he entered the apartment of
Lord Ruthven, and abruptly asked him his intentions with respect to the
lady, informing him at the same time that he was aware of his being
about to meet her that very night. Lord Ruthven answered, that his
intentions were such as he supposed all would have upon such an
occasion; and upon being pressed whether he intended to marry her,
merely laughed. Aubrey retired; and, immediately writing a note, to say,
that from that moment he must decline accompanying his Lordship in the
remainder of their proposed tour, he ordered his servant to seek other
apartments, and calling upon the mother of the lady, informed her of all
he knew, not only with regard to her daughter, but also concerning the
character of his Lordship. The assignation was prevented. Lord Ruthven
next day merely sent his servant to notify his complete assent to a
separation; but did not hint any suspicion of his plans having been
foiled by Aubrey's interposition.
Having left Rome,
Aubrey directed his steps towards Greece, and crossing the Peninsula,
soon found himself at Athens. He then fixed his residence in the house
of a Greek; and soon occupied himself in tracing the faded records of
ancient glory upon monuments that apparently, ashamed of chronicling the
deeds of freemen only before slaves, had hidden themselves beneath the
sheltering soil or many coloured lichen. Under the same roof as himself,
existed a being, so beautiful and delicate, that she might have formed
the model for a painter wishing to pourtray on canvass the promised hope
of the faithful in Mahomet's paradise, save that her eyes spoke too
much mind for any one to think she could belong to those who had no
souls. As she danced upon the plain, or tripped along the mountain's
side, one would have thought the gazelle a poor type of her beauties;
for who would have exchanged her eye, apparently the eye of animated
nature, for that sleepy luxurious look of the animal suited but to the
taste of an epicure. The light step of Ianthe often accompanied Aubrey
in his search after antiquities, and often would the unconscious girl,
engaged in the pursuit of a Kashmere butterfly, show the whole beauty of
her form, floating as it were upon the wind, to the eager gaze of him,
who forgot the letters he had just decyphered upon an almost effaced
tablet, in the contemplation of her sylph-like figure. Often would her
tresses falling, as she flitted around, exhibit in the sun's ray such
delicately brilliant and swiftly fading hues, it might well excuse the
forgetfulness of the antiquary, who let escape from his mind the very
object he had before thought of vital importance to the proper
interpretation of a passage in Pausanias. But why attempt to describe
charms which all feel, but none can appreciate ? It was innocence,
youth, and beauty, unaffected by crowded drawing-rooms and stifling
balls. Whilst he drew those remains of which he wished to preserve a
memorial for his future hours, she would stand by, and watch the magic
effects of his pencil, in tracing the scenes of her native place; she
would then describe to him the circling dance upon the open plain, would
paint, to him in all the glowing colours of youthful memory, the
marriage pomp she remembered viewing in her infancy; and then, turning
to subjects that had evidently made a greater impression upon her mind,
would tell him all the supernatural tales of her nurse. Her earnestness
and apparent belief of what she narrated, excited the interest even of
Aubrey; and often as she told him the tale of the living vampyre, who
had passed years amidst his friends, and dearest ties, forced every
year, by feeding upon the life of a lovely female to prolong his
existence for the ensuing months, his blood would run cold, whilst he
attempted to laugh her out of such idle and horrible fantasies; but
Ianthe cited to him the names of old men, who had at last detected one
living among themselves, after several of their near relatives and
children had been found marked with the stamp of the fiend's appetite;
and when she found him so incredulous, she begged of him to believe her,
for it had been, remarked, that those who had dared to question their
existence, always had some proof given, which obliged them, with grief
and heartbreaking, to confess it was true. She detailed to him the
traditional appearance of these monsters, and his horror was increased,
by hearing a pretty accurate description of Lord Ruthven; he, however,
still persisted in persuading her, that there could be no truth in her
fears, though at the same time he wondered at the many coincidences
which had all tended to excite a belief in the supernatural power of
Lord Ruthven.
Aubrey began to
attach himself more and more to Ianthe; her innocence, so contrasted
with all the affected virtues of the women among whom he had sought for
his vision of romance, won his heart; and while he ridiculed the idea of
a young man of English habits, marrying an uneducated Greek girl, still
he found himself more and more attached to the almost fairy form before
him. He would tear himself at times from her, and, forming a plan for
some antiquarian research, he would depart, determined not to return
until his object was attained; but he always found it impossible to fix
his attention upon the ruins around him, whilst in his mind he retained
an image that seemed alone the rightful possessor of his thoughts.
Ianthe was unconscious of his love, and was ever the same frank
infantile being he had first known. She always seemed to part from him
with reluctance; but it was because she had no longer any one with whom
she could visit her favourite haunts, whilst her guardian was occupied
in sketching or uncovering some fragment which had yet escaped the
destructive hand of time. She had appealed to her parents on the subject
of Vampyres, and they both, with several present, affirmed their
existence, pale with horror at the very name. Soon after, Aubrey
determined to proceed upon one of his excursions, which was to detain
him for a few hours; when they heard the name of the place, they all at
once begged of him not to return at night, as he must necessarily pass
through a wood, where no Greek would ever remain, after the day had
closed, upon any consideration. They described it as the resort of the
vampyres in 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 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 kissed her cheek, wet with tears, flowing
at the thought of her brother's being once more alive to the feelings
of affection. He began to speak with all his wonted warmth, and to
congratulate her upon her marriage with a person so distinguished for
rank and every accomplishment; when he suddenly perceived a locket upon
her breast; opening it, what was his surprise at beholding the features
of the monster who had so long influenced his life. He seized the
portrait in a paroxysm of rage, and trampled it under foot. Upon her
asking him why he thus destroyed the resemblance of her future husband,
he looked as if he did not understand her then seizing her hands, and
gazing on her with a frantic expression of countenance, he bade her
swear that she would never wed this monster, for he- - - But he could
not advance it seemed as if that voice again bade him remember his oath,
he turned suddenly round, thinking Lord Ruthven was near him but saw no
one. In the meantime the guardians and physician, who had heard the
whole, and thought this was but a return of his disorder, entered, and
forcing him from Miss Aubrey, desired her to leave him. He fell upon his
knees to them, he implored, he begged of them to delay but for one day.
They, attributing this to the insanity they imagined had taken
possession of his mind, endeavoured to pacify him, and retired.
Lord Ruthven had
called the morning after the drawing-room, and had been refused with
every one else. When he heard of Aubrey's ill health, he readily
understood himself to be the cause of it; but when he learned that he
was deemed insane, his exultation and pleasure could hardly be concealed
from those among whom he had gained this information. He hastened to
the house of his former companion, and, by constant attendance, and the
pretence of great affection for the brother and interest in his fate, he
gradually won the ear of Miss Aubrey. Who could resist his power? His
tongue had dangers and toils to recount could speak of himself as of an
individual having no sympathy with any being on the crowded earth, save
with her to whom he addressed himself; could tell how, since he knew
her, his existence, had begun to seem worthy of preservation, if it were
merely that he might listen to her soothing accents; in fine, he knew
so well how to use the serpent's art, or such was the will of fate, that
he gained her affections. The title of the elder branch falling at
length to him, he obtained an important embassy, which served as an
excuse for hastening the marriage, (in spite of her brother's deranged
state,) which was to take place the very day before his departure for
the continent.
Aubrey, when he was
left by the physician and his guardians, attempted to bribe the
servants, but in vain. He asked for pen and paper; it was given him; he
wrote a letter to his sister, conjuring her, as she valued her own
happiness, her own honour, and the honour of those now in the grave, who
once held her in their arms as their hope and the hope of their house,
to delay but for a few hours that marriage, on which he denounced the
most heavy curses. The servants promised they would deliver it; but
giving it to the physician, he thought it better not to harass any more
the mind of Miss Aubrey by, what he considered, the ravings of a maniac.
Night passed on without rest to the busy inmates of the house; and
Aubrey heard, with a horror that may more easily be conceived than
described, the notes of busy preparation. Morning came, and the sound of
carriages broke upon his ear. Aubrey grew almost frantic. The curiosity
of the servants at last overcame their vigilance, they gradually stole
away, leaving him in the custody of an helpless old woman. He seized the
opportunity, with one bound was out of the room, and in a moment found
himself in the apartment where all were nearly assembled. Lord Ruthven
was the first to perceive him: he immediately approached, and, taking
his arm by force, hurried him from the room, speechless with rage. When
on the staircase, Lord Ruthven whispered in his ear "Remember your oath,
and know, if not my bride to day, your sister is dishonoured. Women are
frail!" So saying, he pushed him towards his attendants, who, roused by
the old woman, had come in search of him. Aubrey could no longer
support himself; his rage not finding vent, had broken a blood-vessel,
and he was conveyed to bed. This was not mentioned to his sister, who
was not present when he entered, as the physician was afraid of
agitating her. The marriage was solemnized, and the bride and bridegroom
left London.
Aubrey's weakness
increased; the effusion of blood produced symptoms of the near approach
of death. He desired his sister's guardians might be called, and when
the midnight hour had struck, he related composedly what the reader has
perused he died immediately after.
The guardians
hastened to protect Miss Aubrey; but when they arrived, it was too late.
Lord Ruthven had disappeared, and Aubrey's sister had glutted the
thirst of a VAMPYRE !
