“And that was your sister?”

“It was, sir.”

“Report has not belied her—­she is beautiful.  But she looks rather pale, I thought.  Has she bad health?”

“The best of health.”

“Indeed!  Perhaps the little disagreeable circumstance, which is made so much food for gossip in the neighbourhood, has affected her spirits?”

“It has.”

“You allude to the supposed visit here of a vampyre?” said Charles, as he fixed his eyes upon Varney’s face.

“Yes, I allude to the supposed appearance of a supposed vampyre in this family,” said Sir Francis Varney, as he returned the earnest gaze of Charles, with such unshrinking assurance, that the young man was compelled, after about a minute, nearly to withdraw his own eyes.

“He will not be cowed,” thought Charles.  “Use has made him familiar to such cross-questioning.”

It appeared now suddenly to occur to Henry that he had said something at Varney’s own house which should have prevented him from coming to the Hall, and he now remarked,—­

“We scarcely expected the pleasure of your company here, Sir Francis Varney.”

“Oh, my dear sir, I am aware of that; but you roused my curiosity.  You mentioned to me that there was a portrait here amazingly like me.”

“Did I?”

“Indeed you did, or how could I know it?  I wanted to see if the resemblance was so perfect.”

“Did you hear, sir,” added Henry, “that my sister was alarmed at your likeness to that portrait?”

“No, really.”

“I pray you walk in, and we will talk more at large upon that matter.”

“With great pleasure.  One leads a monotonous life in the country, when compared with the brilliancy of a court existence.  Just now I have no particular engagement.  As we are near neighbours I see no reason why we should not be good friends, and often interchange such civilities as make up the amenities of existence, and which, in the country, more particularly, are valuable.”

Henry could not be hypocrite enough to assent to this; but still, under the present aspect of affairs, it was impossible to return any but a civil reply; so he said,—­

“Oh, yes, of course—­certainly.  My time is very much occupied, and my sister and mother see no company.”

“Oh, now, how wrong.”

“Wrong, sir?”

“Yes, surely.  If anything more than another tends to harmonize individuals, it is the society of that fairer half of the creation which we love for their very foibles.  I am much attached to the softer sex—­to young persons full of health.  I like to see the rosy checks, where the warm blood mantles in the superficial veins, and all is loveliness and life.”

Charles shrank back, and the word “Demon” unconsciously escaped his lips.

Sir Francis took no manner of notice of the expression, but went on talking, as if he had been on the very happiest terms with every one present.