“Hurrah! hurrah!” they shouted a number of times, in a wild strain of delight.  “Hurrah! hurrah! hurrah!”

The fact was, a party of the mob had clambered up a verandah, and entered some of the rooms upstairs, whence they emerged just above the landing near the spot where the servants were resisting in a mass the efforts of the mob.

“Hurrah!” shouted the mob below.

“Hurrah!” shouted the mob above.

There was a momentary pause, and the servants divided themselves into two bodies, and one turned to face those above, and the other those who were below.

A simultaneous shout was given by both parties of the mob, and a sudden rush was made by both bodies, and the servants of Sir Francis Varney were broken in an instant.  They were instantly separated, and knocked about a good bit, but they were left to shift for themselves, the mob had a more important object in view.

“Down with the vampyre!” they shouted.

“Down with the vampyre!” shouted they, and they rushed helter skelter through the rooms, until they came to one where the door was partially open, and they could see some person very leisurely seated.

“Here he is,” they cried.

“Who? who?”

“The vampire.”

“Down with him! kill him! burn him!”

“Hurrah! down with the vampire!”

These sounds were shouted out by a score of voices, and they rushed headlong into the room.

But here their violence and headlong precipitancy were suddenly restrained by the imposing and quiet appearance of the individual who was there seated.

The mob entered the room, and there was a sight, that if it did not astonish them, at least, it caused them to pause before the individual who was seated there.

The room was well filled with furniture, and there was a curtain drawn across the room, and about the middle of it there was a table, behind which sat Sir Francis Varney himself, looking all smiles and courtesy.

“Well, dang my smock-frock!” said one, “who’d ha’ thought of this?  He don’t seem to care much about it.”

“Well, I’m d——­d!” said another; “he seems pretty easy, at all events.  What is he going to do?”

“Gentlemen,” said Sir Francis Varney, rising, with the blandest smiles, “pray, gentlemen, permit me to inquire the cause of this condescension on your part.  The visit is kind.”

The mob looked at Sir Francis, and then at each other, and then at Sir Francis again; but nobody spoke.  They were awed by this gentlemanly and collected behaviour.

“If you honour me with this visit from pure affection and neighbourly good-will, I thank you.”

“Down with the vampyre!” said one, who was concealed behind the rest, and not so much overawed, as he had not seen Sir Francis.

Sir Francis Varney rose to his full height; a light gleamed across his features; they were strongly defined then.  His long front teeth, too, showed most strongly when he smiled, as he did now, and said, in a bland voice,—­