“It can be no trouble, Flora.”

“Then I shall rest in peace, for I know that the dreadful vampyre cannot come to me when you are by-”

“The what, Flora!”

“The vampyre, Henry.  It was a vampyre.”

“Good God, who told you so?”

“No one.  I have read of them in the book of travels in Norway, which Mr. Marchdale lent us all.”

“Alas, alas!” groaned Henry.  “Discard, I pray you, such a thought from your mind.”

“Can we discard thoughts.  What power have we but from that mind, which is ourselves?”

“True, true.”

“Hark, what noise is that?  I thought I heard a noise.  Henry, when you go, ring for some one first.  Was there not a noise?”

“The accidental shutting of some door, dear.”

“Was it that?”

“It was.”

“Then I am relieved.  Henry, I sometimes fancy I am in the tomb, and that some one is feasting on my flesh.  They do say, too, that those who in life have been bled by a vampyre, become themselves vampyres, and have the same horrible taste for blood as those before them.  Is it not horrible?”

“You only vex yourself by such thoughts, Flora.  Mr. Chillingworth is coming to see you.”

“Can he minister to a mind diseased?”

“But yours is not, Flora.  Your mind is healthful, and so, although his power extends not so far, we will thank Heaven, dear Flora, that you need it not.”

She sighed deeply, as she said,—­

“Heaven help me!  I know not, Henry.  The dreadful being held on by my hair.  I must have it all taken off.  I tried to get away, but it dragged me back—­a brutal thing it was.  Oh, then at that moment, Henry, I felt as if something strange took place in my brain, and that I was going mad!  I saw those glazed eyes close to, mine—­I felt a hot, pestiferous breath upon my face—­help—­help!”

“Hush! my Flora, hush!  Look at me.”

“I am calm again.  It fixed its teeth in my throat.  Did I faint away?”

“You did, dear; but let me pray you to refer all this to imagination; or at least the greater part of it.”

“But you saw it.”

“Yes—­”

“All saw it.”

“We all saw some man—­a housebreaker—­It must have been some housebreaker.  What more easy, you know, dear Flora, than to assume some such disguise?”

“Was anything stolen?”

“Not that I know of; but there was an alarm, you know.”

Flora shook her head, as she said, in a low voice,—­

“That which came here was more than mortal.  Oh, Henry, if it had but killed me, now I had been happy; but I cannot live—­I hear it breathing now.”

“Talk of something else, dear Flora,” said the much distressed Henry; “you will make yourself much worse, if you indulge yourself in these strange fancies.”

“Oh, that they were but fancies!”

“They are, believe me.”