“You may well doubt the evidence of your own ears, Charles Holland, and wish me to repeat what I said. I say, do you know anything about vampyres?” Charles Holland looked curiously in Henry’s face, and the latter immediately added,— “I can guess what is passing in your mind at present, and I do not wonder at it. You think I must be mad.” “Well, really, Henry, your extraordinary question——” “I knew it. Were I you, I should hesitate to believe the tale; but the fact is, we have every reason to believe that one member of our own family is one of those horrible preternatural beings called vampyres.” “Good God, Henry, can you allow your judgment for a moment to stoop to such a supposition?” “That is what I have asked myself a hundred times; but, Charles Holland, the judgment, the feelings, and all the prejudices, natural and acquired, must succumb to actual ocular demonstration. Listen to me, and do not interrupt me. You shall know all, and you shall know it circumstantially.” Henry then related to the astonished Charles Holland all that had occurred, from the first alarm of Flora, up to that period when he, Holland, caught her in his arms as she was about to leave the room. “And now,” he said, in conclusion, “I cannot tell what opinion you may come to as regards these most singular events. You will recollect that here is the unbiased evidence of four or five people to the facts, and, beyond that, the servants, who have seen something of the horrible visitor.” “You bewilder me, utterly,” said Charles Holland. “As we are all bewildered.” “But—but, gracious Heaven! it cannot be.” “It is.” “No—no. There is—there must be yet some dreadful mistake.” “Can you start any supposition by which we can otherwise explain any of the phenomena I have described to you? If you can, for Heaven’s sake do so, and you will find no one who will cling to it with more tenacity than I.” “Any other species or kind of supernatural appearance might admit of argument; but this, to my perception, is too wildly improbable—too much at variance with all we see and know of the operations of nature.” “It is so. All that we have told ourselves repeatedly, and yet is all human reason at once struck down by the few brief words of—‘We have seen it.’” “I would doubt my eyesight.” “One might; but many cannot be labouring under the same delusion.” “My friend, I pray you, do not make me shudder at the supposition that such a dreadful thing as this is at all possible.” “I am, believe me, Charles, most unwilling to oppress anyone with the knowledge of these evils; but you are so situated with us, that you ought to know, and you will clearly understand that you may, with perfect honour, now consider yourself free from all engagements you have entered into with Flora.” “No, no! By Heaven, no!” “Yes, Charles. Reflect upon the consequences now of a union with such a family.”