Varney the Vampire 1(113)

 

Flora raised her beautiful eyes, and looked the old weather-beaten admiral full in the face.

 

Oh! what a striking contrast did those two persons present to each other. That young and beautiful girl, with her small, delicate, childlike hands clasped, and completely hidden in the huge ones of the old sailor, the white, smooth skin contrasting wonderfully with his wrinkled, hardened features.

 

"My dear," he cried, "you have read those--those d----d letters, my dear?"

 

"I have, sir."

 

"And what do you think of them?"

 

"They were not written by Charles Holland, your nephew."

 

A choking sensation seemed to come over the old man, and he tried to speak, but in vain. He shook the hands of the young girl violently, until he saw that he was hurting her, and then, before she could be aware of what he was about, he gave her a kiss on the cheek, as he cried,--

 

"God bless you--God bless you! You are the sweetest, dearest little creature that ever was, or that ever will be, and I'm a d----d old fool, that's what I am. These letters were not written by my nephew, Charles. He is incapable of writing them, and, d--n me, I shall take shame to myself as long as I live for ever thinking so."

 

"Dear sir," said Flora, who somehow or another did not seem at all offended at the kiss which the old man had given her; "dear sir, how could you believe, for one moment, that they came from him? There has been some desperate villany on foot. Where is he?--oh, find him, if he be yet alive. If they who have thus striven to steal from him that honour, which is the jewel of his heart, have murdered him, seek them out, sir, in the sacred name of justice, I implore you."

 

"I will--I will. I don't renounce him; he is my nephew still--Charles Holland--my own dear sister's son; and you are the best girl, God bless you, that ever breathed. He loved you--he loves you still; and if he's above ground, poor fellow, he shall yet tell you himself he never saw those infamous letters."

 

"You--you will seek for him?" sobbed Flora, and the tears gushed from her eyes. "Upon you, sir, who, as I do, feel assured of his innocence, I alone rely. If all the world say he is guilty, we will not think so."

 

"I'm d----d if we do."

 

Henry had sat down by the table, and, with his hands clasped together, seemed in an agony of thought.

 

He was now roused by a thump on the back by the admiral, who cried,--

 

"What do you think, now, old fellow? D--n it, things look a little different now."

 

"As God is my judge," said Henry, holding up his hands, "I know not what to think, but my heart and feelings all go with you and with Flora, in your opinion of the innocence of Charles Holland."

 

"I knew you would say that, because you could not possibly help it, my dear boy. Now we are all right again, and all we have got to do is to find out which way the enemy has gone, and then give chase to him."

 

"Mr. Marchdale, what do you think of this new suggestion," said George to that gentleman.

 

"Pray, excuse me," was his reply; "I would much rather not be called upon to give an opinion."

 

"Why, what do you mean by that?" said the admiral.

 

"Precisely what I say, sir."

 

"D--n me, we had a fellow once in the combined fleets, who never had an opinion till after something had happened, and then he always said that was just what he thought."

 

"I was never in the combined, or any other fleet, sir," said Marchdale, coldly.

 

"Who the devil said you were?" roared the admiral.

 

Marchdale merely hawed.

 

"However," added the admiral, "I don't care, and never did, for anybody's opinion, when I know I am right. I'd back this dear girl here for opinions, and good feelings, and courage to express them, against all the world, I would, any day. If I was not the old hulk I am, I would take a cruise in any latitude under the sun, if it was only for the chance of meeting with just such another."

 

"Oh, lose no time!" said Flora. "If Charles is not to be found in the house, lose no time in searching for him, I pray you; seek him, wherever there is the remotest probability he may chance to be. Do not let him think he is deserted."

 

"Not a bit of it," cried the admiral. "You make your mind easy, my dear. If he's above ground, we shall find him out, you may depend upon it. Come along master Henry, you and I will consider what had best be done in this uncommonly ugly matter."

 

Henry and George followed the admiral from the breakfast-room, leaving Marchdale there, who looked serious and full of melancholy thought.