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The Vampyre .......................................................................................................................................................1

It happened that in the midst of the dissipations attendant upon London winter, there appeared at the various

parties of the leaders of the town a nobleman more remarkable for his singularities, than his rank. He gazed

upon the mirth around him, as if he could not participate therein. Apparently, the light laughter of the fair

only attracted his attention, that he might by a look quell it and throw fear into those breasts where

thoughtlessness reigned. Those who felt this sensation of awe, could not explain whence it arose: some

attributed it to the dead grey eye, which, fixing upon the object's face, did not seem to penetrate, and at one

glance to pierce through to the inward workings of the heart; but fell upon the cheek with a leaden ray that

weighed upon the skin it could not pass. His peculiarities caused him to be invited to every house; all wished

to see him, and those who had been accustomed to violent excitement, and now felt the weight of ennui, were

pleased at having something in their presence capable of engaging their attention. In spite of the deadly hue

of his face, which never gained a wanner tint, either from the blush of modesty, or from the strong emotion of

passion, though its form and outline were beautiful, many of the female hunters after notoriety attempted to

win his attentions, and gain, at least, some marks of what they might term affection: Lady Mercer, who had

been the mockery of every monster shewn in drawingrooms since her marriage, threw herself in his way,

and did all but put on the dress of a mountebank, to attract his notice though in vain; when she stood

before him, though his eyes were apparently fixed upon hers, still it seemed as if they were unperceived;

even her unappalled impudence was baffled, and she left the field. But though the common adultress could

not influence even the guidance of his eyes, it was not that the female sex was indifferent to him: yet such

was the apparent caution with which he spoke to the virtuous wife and innocent daughter, that few knew he

ever addressed himself to females. He had, however, the reputation of a winning tongue; and whether it was

that it even overcame the dread of his singular character, or that they were moved by his apparent hatred of

vice, he was as often among those females who form the boast of their sex from their domestic virtues, as

About the same time, there came to London a young gentleman of the name of Aubrey: he was an orphan left

with an only sister in the possession of great wealth, by parents who died while he was yet in childhood. Left

also to himself by guardians, who thought it their duty merely to take care of his fortune, while they

relinquished the more important charge of his mind to the care of mercenary subalterns, he cultivated more

his imagination than his judgment. He had, hence, that high romantic feeling of honour and candour, which

daily ruins so many milliners' apprentices. He believed all to sympathise with virtue, and thought that vice

was thrown in by Providence merely for the picturesque effect of the scene, as we see in romances: he

thought that the misery of a cottage merely consisted in the vesting of clothes, which were as warm, but

which were better adapted to the painter's eye by their irregular folds and various coloured patches. He

thought, in fine, that the dreams of poets were the realities of life. He was handsome, frank, and rich: for

these reasons, upon his entering into the gay circles, many mothers surrounded him, striving which should

describe with least truth their languishing or romping favourites: the daughters at the same time, by their

brightening countenances when he approached, and by their sparkling eyes, when he opened his lips, soon led

him into false notions of his talents and his merit. Attached as he was to the romance of his solitary hours, he

was startled at finding, that, except in the tallow and wax candles that flickered, not from the presence of a

ghost, but from want of snuffing, there was no foundation in real life for any of that congeries of pleasing

pictures and descriptions contained in those volumes, from which he had formed his study. Finding, however,

some compensation in his gratified vanity, he was about to relinquish his dreams, when the extraordinary

He watched him; and the very impossibility of forming an idea of the character of a man entirely absorbed in

himself, who gave few other signs of his observation of external objects, than the tacit assent to their

existence, implied by the avoidance of their contact: allowing his imagination to picture every thing that

flattered its propensity to extravagant ideas, he soon formed this object into the hero of a romance, and

determined to observe the offspring of his fancy, rather than the person before him. He became acquainted

with him, paid him attentions, and so far advanced upon his notice, that his presence was always recognised.

He gradually learnt that Lord Ruthven's affairs were embarrassed, and soon found, from the notes of

preparation in Street, that he was about to travel. Desirous of gaining some information respecting this

singular character, who, till now, had only whetted his curiosity, he hinted to his guardians, that it was time

for him to perform the tour, which for many generations has been thought necessary to enable the young to

take some rapid steps in the career of vice towards putting themselves upon an equality with the aged, and not

allowing them to appear as if fallen from the skies, whenever scandalous intrigues are mentioned as the

subjects of pleasantry or of praise, according to the degree of skill shewn in carrying them on. They

consented: and Aubrey immediately mentioning his intentions to Lord Ruthven, was surprised to receive

from him a proposal to join him. Flattered such a mark of esteem from him, who, apparently, had nothing in

common with other men, he gladly accepted it, and in a few days they had passed the circling waters.

Hitherto, Aubrey had had no opportunity of studying Lord Ruthven's character, and now he found, that,

though many more of his actions were exposed to his view, the results offered different conclusions from the

apparent motives to his conduct. His companion was profuse in his liberality; the idle, the vagabond, and

the beggar, received from his hand more than enough to relieve their immediate wants. But Aubrey could not

avoid remarking, that it was not upon the virtuous, reduced to indigence by the misfortunes attendant even

upon virtue, that he bestowed his alms; these were sent from the door with hardly suppressed sneers; but

when the profligate came to ask something, not to relieve his wants, but to allow him to wallow in his lust, to

sink him still deeper in his iniquity, he was sent away with rich charity. This was, however, attributed by him

to the greater importunity of the vicious, which generally prevails over the retiring bashfulness of the virtuous

indigent. There was one circumstance about the charity of his Lordship, which was still more impressed upon

his mind: all those upon whom it was bestowed, inevitably found that there was a curse upon it, for they were

all either led to the scaffold, or sunk to the lowest and the most abject misery. At Brussels and other towns

through which they passed, Aubrey was surprised at the apparent eagerness with which his companion sought

for the centres of all fashionable vice; there he entered into all the spirit of the faro table: he betted and

always gambled with success, except where the known sharper was his antagonist, and then he lost even more

than he gained; but it was always with the same unchanging face, with which he generally watched the

society around: it was not, however, so when he encountered the rash youthful novice, or the luckless father

of a numerous family; then his very wish seemed fortune's law this apparent abstractedness of mind was

laid aside, and his eyes sparkled with more fire than that of the cat whilst dallying with the halfdead mouse.

In every town, he left the formerly affluent youth, torn from the circle he adorned, cursing, in the solitude of a

dungeon, the fate that had drawn him within the reach of this fiend; whilst many a father sat frantic, amidst

the speaking looks of mute hungry children, without a single farthing of his late immense wealth, wherewith

to buy even sufficient to satisfy their present craving. Yet he took no money from the gambling table; but

immediately lost, to the ruiner of many, the last gilder he had just snatched from the convulsive grasp of the

innocent: this might but be the result of a certain degree of knowledge, which was not, however, capable of

combating the cunning of the more experienced. Aubrey often wished to represent this to his friend, and beg

him to resign that charity and pleasure which proved the ruin of all, and did not tend to his own profit; but he

delayed it for each day he hoped his friend would give him some opportunity of speaking frankly and

openly to him; however, this never occurred. Lord Ruthven in his carriage, and amidst the various wild and

rich scenes of nature, was always the same: his eye spoke less than his lip; and though Aubrey was near the

object of his curiosity, he obtained no greater gratification from it than the constant excitement of vainly

wishing to break that mystery, which to his exalted imagination began to assume the appearance of something

They soon arrived at Rome, and Aubrey for a time lost sight of his companion; he left him in daily attendance

upon the morning circle of an Italian countess, whilst he went in search of the memorials of another almost

deserted city. Whilst he was thus engaged, letters arrived from England, which he opened with eager

impatience; the first was from his sister, breathing nothing but affection; the others were from his guardians,

the latter astonished him; if it had before entered into his imagination that there was an evil power resident in

his companion these seemed to give him almost sufficient reason for the belief. His guardians insisted upon

his immediately leaving his friend, and urged that his character was dreadfully vicious, for that the possession

of irresistible powers of seduction, rendered his licentious habits more dangerous to society. It had been

discovered, that his contempt for the adultress had not originated in hatred of her character; but that he had

required, to enhance his gratification, that his victim, the partner of his guilt, should be hurled from the

pinnacle of unsullied virtue, down to the lowest abyss of infamy and degradation: in fine, that all those

females whom he had sought, apparently on account of their virtue, had, since his departure, thrown even the

mask aside, and had not scrupled to expose the whole deformity of their vices to the public gaze.

Aubrey determined upon leaving one, whose character had not shown a single bright point on which to rest

the eye. He resolved to invent some plausible pretext for abandoning him altogether, purposing, in the mean

while, to watch him more closely, and to let no slight circumstances pass by unnoticed. He entered into the

same circle, and soon perceived, that his Lordship was endeavouring to work upon the inexperience of the

daughter of the lady whose house he chiefly frequented. In Italy, it is seldom that an unmarried female is met

with in society; he was therefore obliged to carry on his plans in secret; but Aubrey's eye followed him in all

his windings, and soon discovered that an assignation had been appointed, which would most likely end in

the ruin of an innocent, though thoughtless girl. Losing no time, he entered the apartment of Lord Ruthven,

and abruptly asked him his intentions with respect to the lady, informing him at the same time that he was

aware of his being about to meet her that very night. Lord Ruthven answered, that his intentions were such as

he supposed all would have upon such an occasion; and upon being pressed whether he intended to marry

her, merely laughed. Aubrey retired; and, immediately writing a note, to say, that from that moment he must

decline accompanying his Lordship in the remainder of their proposed tour, he ordered his servant to seek

other apartments, and calling upon the mother of the lady informed her of all he knew, not only with regard to

her daughter, but also concerning the character of his Lordship. The assignation was prevented. Lord Ruthven

next day merely sent his servant to notify his complete assent to a separation; but did not hint any suspicion

Having left Rome, Aubrey directed his steps towards Greece, and crossing the Peninsula, soon found himself

at Athens. He then fixed residence in the house of a Greek; and soon occupied himself in tracing the faded

records of ancient glory upon monuments that apparently, ashamed of chronicling the deeds of freemen only

before slaves, had hidden themselves beneath the sheltering soil or many coloured lichen. Under the same

roof as himself, existed a being, so beautiful and delicate, that she might have formed the model for a painter,

wishing to portray on canvass the promised hope of the faithful in Mahomet's paradise, save that her eyes

spoke too much mind for any one to think she could belong to those who had no souls. As she danced upon

the plain, or tripped along the mountain's side, one would have thought the gazelle a poor type of her

beauties; for who would have exchanged her eye, apparently the eye of animated nature, for that sleepy

luxurious look of the animal suited but to the taste of an epicure. The light step of Ianthe often accompanied

Aubrey in his search after antiquities, and often would the unconscious girl, engaged in the pursuit of a

Kashmere butterfly, show the whole beauty of her form, boating as it were upon the wind, to the eager gaze

of him, who forgot the letters he had just decyphered upon an almost effaced tablet, in the contemplation of

her sylphlike figure. Often would her tresses falling, as she flitted around, exhibit in the sun's ray such

delicately brilliant and swiftly fading hues, as might well excuse the forgetfulness of the antiquary, who let

escape from his mind the very object he had before thought of vital importance to the proper interpretation of

a passage in Pausanias. But why attempt to describe charms which all feel, but none can appreciate? It

was innocence, youth, and beauty, unaffected by crowded drawingrooms and stifling balls. Whilst he drew

those remains of which he wished to preserve a memorial for his future hours, she would stand by, and watch

the magic effects of his pencil, in tracing the scenes of her native place; she would then describe to him the

circling dance upon the open plain, would paint to him in all the glowing colours of youthful memory, the

marriage pomp she remembered viewing in her infancy; and then, turning to subjects that had evidently made

a greater impression upon her mind, would tell him all the supernatural tales of her nurse. Her earnestness

and apparent belief of what she narrated, excited the interest even of Aubrey; and often as she told him the

tale of the living vampyre, who had passed years amidst his friends, and dearest ties, forced every year, by

feeding upon the life of a lovely female to prolong his existence for the ensuing months, his blood would run

cold, whilst he attempted to laugh her out of such idle and horrible fantasies; but Ianthe cited to him the

names of old men, who had at last detected one living among themselves, after several of their near relatives

and children had been found marked with the stamp of the fiend's appetite; and when she found him so

incredulous, she begged of him to believe her, for it had been remarked, that those who had dared to question

their existence, always had some proof given, which obliged them, with grief and heartbreaking, to confess it

was true. She detailed to him the traditional appearance of these monsters, and his horror was increased by

hearing a pretty accurate description of Lord Ruthven; he, however, still persisted in persuading her, that

there could be no truth in her fears, though at the same time he wondered at the many coincidences which had

Aubrey began to attach himself more and more to Ianthe; her innocence, so contrasted with all the affected

virtues of the women among whom he had sought for his vision of romance, won his heart and while he

ridiculed the idea of a young man of English habits, marrying an uneducated Greek girl, still he found himself

more and more attached to the almost fairy form before him. He would tear himself at times from her, and,

forming a plan for some antiquarian research, would depart, determined not to return until his object was

attained; but he always found it impossible to fix his attention upon the ruins around him, whilst in his mind

he retained an image that seemed alone the rightful possessor of his thoughts. Ianthe was unconscious of his

love, and was ever the same frank infantile being he had first known. She always seemed to part from him

with reluctance; but it was because she had no longer any one with whom she could visit her favourite haunts,

whilst her guardian was occupied in sketching or uncovering some fragment which had yet escaped the

destructive hand of time. She had appealed to her parents on the subject of Vampyres, and they both, with

several present, affirmed their existence, pale with horror at the very name. Soon after, Aubrey determined to

proceed upon one of his excursions, which was to detain him for a few hours; when they heard the name of

the place, they all at once begged of him not to return at night, as he must necessarily pass through a wood,

where no Greek would ever remain, after the day had closed, upon any consideration. They described it as the

resort of the vampyres in their nocturnal orgies and denounced the most heavy evils as impending upon him

who dared to cross their path. Aubrey made light of their representations, and tried to laugh them out of the

idea; but when he saw them shudder at his daring thus to mock a superior, infernal power, the very name of

Next morning Aubrey set off upon his excursion unattended; he was surprised to observe the melancholy face

of his host, and was concerned to find that his words, mocking the belief of those horrible fiends, had inspired

them with such terror. When he was about to depart, Ianthe came to the side of his horse, and earnestly

begged of him to return, ere night allowed the power of these beings to be put in action; he promised. He

was, however, so occupied in his research, that he did not perceive that daylight would soon end, and that in

the horizon there was one of those specks which, in the warmer climates, so rapidly gather into a tremendous

mass, and pour all their rage upon the devoted country. He at last, however, mounted his horse,

determined to make up by speed for his delay: but it was too late. Twilight, in these southern climates, is

almost unknown; immediately the sun sets, night begins: and ere he had advanced far, the power of the storm

was above its echoing thunders had scarcely an interval of rest; its thick heavy rain forced its way

through the canopying foliage, whilst the blue forked lightning seemed to fall and radiate at his very feet.

Suddenly his horse took fright, and he was carried with dreadful rapidity through the entangled forest. The

animal at last, through fatigue, stopped, and he found, by the glare of lightning, that he was in the

neighbourhood of a hovel that hardly lifted itself up from the masses of dead leaves and brushwood which

surrounded it. Dismounting, he approached, hoping to find some one to guide him to the town, or at least

trusting to obtain shelter from the pelting of the storm. As he approached, the thunders, for a moment silent,

allowed him to hear the dreadful shrieks of a woman mingling with the stifled, exultant mockery of a laugh,

continued in one almost unbroken sound; he was startled: but, roused by the thunder which again rolled

over his head, he, with a sudden effort, forced open the door of the hut. He found himself in utter darkness:

the sound, however, guided him. He was apparently unperceived; for, though he called, still the sounds

continued, and no notice was taken of him. He found himself in contact with some one, whom he

immediately seized; when a voice cried, "Again baffled!" to which a loud laugh succeeded; and he felt

himself grappled by one whose strength seemed superhuman: determined to sell his life as dearly as he could,

he struggled; but it was in vain: he was lifted from his feet and hurled with enormous force against the

ground: his enemy threw himself upon him, and kneeling upon his breast, had placed his hands upon his

throat when the glare of many torches penetrating through the hole that gave light in the day, disturbed him;

he instantly rose, and, leaving his prey, rushed through the door, and in a moment the crashing of

branches, as he broke through the wood, was no longer heard. The storm was now still; and Aubrey,

incapable of moving, was soon heard by those without. They entered; the light of their torches fell upon mud

walls, and the thatch loaded on every individual straw with heavy flakes of soot. At the desire of Aubrey they

searched for her who had attracted him by her cries; he was again left in darkness; but what was his horror,

when the light of the torches once more burst upon him, to perceive the airy form of his fair conductress

brought in a lifeless corpse. He shut his eyes, hoping that it was but a vision arising from his disturbed

imagination; but he again saw the same form, when he unclosed them, stretched by his side. There was no

colour upon her cheek, not even upon her lip; yet there was a stillness about her face that seemed almost as

attaching as the life that once dwelt there: upon her neck and breast was blood, and upon her throat were

the marks of teeth having opened the vein: to this the men pointed, crying, simultaneously struck with

horror, "A Vampyre! a Vampyre!" A litter was quickly formed, and Aubrey was laid by the side of her who

had lately been to him the object of so many bright and fairy visions, now fallen; with the flower of life that

had died within her. He knew not what his thoughts were his mind was benumbed and seemed to shun

reflection and take refuge in vacancy; he held almost unconsciously in his hand a naked dagger of a

particular construction, which had been found in the hut. They were soon met by different parties who had

been engaged in the search of her whom a mother had missed. Their lamentable cries as they approached the

city, forewarned the parents of some dreadful catastrophe. To describe their grief would be impossible;

but when they ascertained the cause of their child's death, they looked at Aubrey and pointed to the corpse.

Aubrey being put to bed was seized with a most violent fever, and was often delirious; in these intervals he

would call upon Lord Ruthven and upon Ianthe by some unaccountable combination he seemed to beg of

his former companion to spare the being he loved. At other times he would imprecate maledictions upon his

head, and curse him as her destroyer. Lord Ruthven chanced at this time to arrive at Athens, and from

whatever motive, upon hearing of the state of Aubrey, immediately placed himself in the same house, and

became his constant attendant. When the latter recovered from his delirium, he was horrified and startled at

the sight of him whose image he had now combined with that of a Vampyre; but Lord Ruthven, by his kind

words, implying almost repentance for the fault that had caused their separation, and still more by the

attention, anxiety, and care which he showed, soon reconciled him to his presence. His lordship seemed quite

changed; he no longer appeared that apathetic being who had so astonished Aubrey; but as soon as his

convalescence began to be rapid, he again gradually retired into the same state of mind, and Aubrey

perceived no difference from the former man, except that at times he was surprised to meet his gaze fixed

intently upon him, with a smile of malicious exultation playing upon his lips: he knew not why, but this smile

haunted him. During the last stage of the invalid's recovery, Lord Ruthven was apparently engaged in

watching the tideless waves raised by the cooling breeze, or in marking the progress of those orbs, circling,

like our world, the moveless sun; indeed, he appeared to wish to avoid the eyes of all.

Aubrey's mind, by this shock, was much weakened, and that elasticity of spirit which had once so

distinguished him now seemed to have fled for ever. He was now as much a lover of solitude and silence as

Lord Ruthven; but much as he wished for solitude, his mind could not find it in the neighbourhood of Athens;

if he sought it amidst the ruins he had formerly frequented, Ianthe's form stood by his side; if he sought it

in the woods, her light step would appear wandering amidst the underwood, in quest of the modest violet;

then suddenly turning round, would show, to his wild imagination, her pale face and wounded throat, with a

meek smile upon her lips. He determined to fly scenes, every feature of which created such bitter associations

in his mind. He proposed to Lord Ruthven, to whom he held himself bound by the tender care he had taken of

him during his illness, that they should visit those parts of Greece neither had yet seen. They travelled in

every direction, and sought every spot to which a recollection could be attached: but though they thus

hastened from place to place, yet they seemed not to heed what they gazed upon. They heard much of

robbers, but they gradually began to slight these reports, which they imagined were only the invention of

individuals, whose interest it was to excite the generosity of those whom they defended from pretended

dangers. In consequence of thus neglecting the advice of the inhabitants, on one occasion they travelled with

only a few guards, more to serve as guides than as a defence. Upon entering, however, a narrow defile, at the

bottom of which was the bed of a torrent, with large masses of rock brought down from the neighbouring

precipices, they had reason to repent their negligence; for scarcely were the whole of the party engaged in the

narrow pass, when they were startled by the whistling of bullets close to their heads, and by the echoed report

of several guns. In an instant their guards had left them, and, placing themselves behind rocks, had begun to

fire in the direction whence the report came. Lord Ruthven and Aubrey, imitating their example, retired for a

moment behind the sheltering turn of the defile: but ashamed of being thus detained by a foe, who with

insulting shouts bade them advance, and being exposed to unresisting slaughter, if any of the robbers should

climb above and take them in the rear, they determined at once to rush forward in search of the enemy.

Hardly had they lost the shelter of rock, when Lord Ruthven received a shot in the shoulder, which brought

him to the ground. Aubrey hastened to his assistance; and, no longer heeding the contest or his own peril, was

soon surprised by seeing the robbers' faces around him his guards having, upon Lord Ruthven's being

By promises of great reward, Aubrey soon induced them to convey his wounded friend to a neighbouring

cabin; and having agreed upon a ransom, he was no more disturbed by their presence they being content

merely to guard the entrance till their comrade should return with the promised sum, for which he had an

order. Lord Ruthven's strength rapidly decreased; in two days mortification ensued, and death seemed

advancing with hasty steps. His conduct and appearance had not changed; he seemed as unconscious of pain

as he had been of the objects about him: but towards the close of the last evening, his mind became

apparently uneasy, and his eye often fixed upon Aubrey, who was induced to offer his assistance with more

than usual earnestness "Assist me! you may save me you may do more than that I mean not life, I

heed the death of my existence as little as that of the passing day; but you may save my honour, your friend's

honour." "How? tell me how? I would do any thing," replied Aubrey. "I need but little, my life ebbs

apace I cannot explain the whole but if you would conceal all you know of me, my honour were free

from stain in the world's mouth and if my death were unknown for some time in England I I but

life." "It shall not be known." "Swear!" cried the dying man raising himself with exultant violence.

"Swear by all your soul reveres, by all your nature fears, swear that for a year and a day you will not impart

your knowledge of my crimes or death to any living being in any way, whatever may happen, or whatever

you may see." His eyes seemed bursting from their sockets; "I swear!" said Aubrey; he sunk laughing

Aubrey retired to rest, but did not sleep; the many circumstances attending his acquaintance with this man

rose upon his mind, and he knew not why; when he remembered his oath a cold shivering came over him, as

if from the presentiment of something horrible awaiting him. Rising early in the morning, he was about to

enter the hovel in which he had left the corpse, when a robber met him, and informed him that it was no

longer there, having been conveyed by himself and comrades, upon his retiring, to the pinnacle of a

neighbouring mount, according to a promise they had given his lordship, that it should be exposed to the first

cold ray of the moon that rose after his death. Aubrey astonished, and taking several of the men, determined

to go and bury it upon the spot where it lay. But, when he had mounted to the summit he found no trace of

either the corpse or the clothes, though the robbers swore they pointed out the identical rock on which they

had laid the body. For a time his mind was bewildered in conjectures, but he at last returned, convinced that

Weary of a country in which he had met with such terrible misfortunes, and in which all apparently conspired

to heighten that superstitious melancholy that had seized upon his mind, he resolved to leave it, and soon

arrived at Smyrna. While waiting for a vessel to convey him to Otranto, or to Naples, he occupied himself in

arranging those effects he had with him belonging to Lord Ruthven. Amongst other things there was a case

containing several weapons of offence, more or less adapted to ensure the death of the victim. There were

several daggers and ataghans. Whilst turning them over, and examining their curious forms, what was his

surprise at finding a sheath apparently ornamented in the same style as the dagger discovered in the fatal hut;

he shuddered; hastening to gain further proof, he found the weapon, and his horror may be imagined when

he discovered that it fitted, though peculiarly shaped, the sheath he held in his hand. His eyes seemed to need

no further certainty they seemed gazing to be bound to the dagger, yet still he wished to disbelieve; but

the particular form, the same varying tints upon the haft and sheath were alike in splendour on both, and left

He left Smyrna, and on his way home, at Rome, his first inquiries were concerning the lady he had attempted

to snatch from Lord Ruthven's seductive arts. Her parents were in distress, their fortune ruined, and she had

not been heard of since the departure of his lordship. Aubrey's mind became almost broken under so many

repeated horrors; he was afraid that this lady had fallen a victim to the destroyer of Ianthe. He became morose

and silent; and his only occupation consisted in urging the speed of the postilions, as if he were going to save

the life of some one he held dear. He arrived at Calais; a breeze, which seemed obedient to his will, soon

wafted him to the English shores; and he hastened to the mansion of his fathers, and there, for a moment,

appeared to lose, in the embraces and caresses of his sister, all memory of the past. If she before, by her

infantine caresses, had gained his affection, now that the woman began to appear, she was still more attaching

Miss Aubrey had not that winning grace which gains the gaze and applause of the drawingroom assemblies.

There was none of that light brilliancy which only exists in the heated atmosphere of a crowded apartment.

Her blue eye was never lit up by the levity of the mind beneath. There was a melancholy charm about it

which did not seem to arise from misfortune, but from some feeling within, that appeared to indicate a soul

conscious of a brighter realm. Her step was not that light footing, which strays where'er a butterfly or a colour

may attract it was sedate and pensive. When alone, her face was never brightened by the smile of joy; but

when her brother breathed to her his affection, and would in her presence forget those griefs she knew

destroyed his rest, who would have exchanged her smile for that of the voluptuary? It seemed as if those eyes,

that face were then playing in the light of their own native sphere. She was yet only eighteen, and had not

been presented to the world, it having been thought by her guardians more fit that her presentation should be

delayed until her brother's return from the continent, when he might be her protector. It was now, therefore,

resolved that the next drawingroom, which was fast approaching, should be the epoch of her entry into the

"busy scene." Aubrey would rather have remained in the mansion of his fathers, and feed upon the

melancholy which overpowered him. He could not feel interest about the frivolities of fashionable strangers,

when his mind had been so torn by the events he had witnessed; but he determined to sacrifice his own

comfort to the protection of his sister. They soon arrived in town, and prepared for the next day, which had

The crowd was excessive a drawingroom had not been held for long time, and all who were anxious to

bask in the smile of royalty, hastened thither. Aubrey was there with his sister. While he was standing in a

corner by himself, heedless of all around him, engaged in the remembrance that the first time he had seen

Lord Ruthven was in that very place he felt himself suddenly seized by the arm, and a voice he recognized

too well, sounded in his ear "Remember your oath." He had hardly courage to turn, fearful of seeing a

spectre that would blast him, when he perceived, at a little distance, the same figure which had attracted his

notice on this spot upon his first entry into society. He gazed till his limbs almost refusing to bear their

weight, he was obliged to take the arm of a friend, and forcing a passage through the crowd, he threw himself

into his carriage, and was driven home. He paced the room with hurried steps, and fixed his hands upon his

head, as if he were afraid his thoughts were bursting from his brain. Lord Ruthven again before him

circumstances started up in dreadful array the dagger his oath. He roused himself, he could not

believe it possible the dead rise again! He thought his imagination had conjured up the image his mind

was resting upon. It was impossible that it could be real he determined, therefore, to go again into society;

for though he attempted to ask concerning Lord Ruthven, the name hung upon his lips and he could not

succeed in gaining information. He went a few nights after with his sister to the assembly of a near relation.

Leaving her under the protection of a matron, he retired into a recess, and there gave himself up to his own

devouring thoughts. Perceiving, at last, that many were leaving, he roused himself, and entering another

room, found his sister surrounded by several, apparently in earnest conversation; he attempted to pass and get

near her, when one, whom he requested to move, turned round, and revealed to him those features he most

abhorred. He sprang forward, seized his sister's arm, and, with hurried step, forced her towards the street: at

the door he found himself impeded by the crowd of servants who were waiting for their lords; and while he

was engaged in passing them, he again heard that voice whisper close to him "Remember your oath!"

Aubrey became almost distracted. If before his mind had been absorbed by one subject, how much more

completely was it engrossed now that the certainty of the monster's living again pressed upon his thoughts.

His sister's attentions were now unheeded, and it was in vain that she intreated him to explain to her what had

caused his abrupt conduct. He only uttered a few words, and those terrified her. The more he thought, the

more he was bewildered. His oath startled him; was he then to allow this monster to roam, bearing ruin

upon his breath, amidst all he held dear, and not avert its progress? His very sister might have been touched

by him. But even if he were to break his oath, and disclose his suspicions, who would believe him? He

thought of employing his own hand to free the world from such a wretch; but death, he remembered, had

been already mocked. For days he remained in state; shut up in his room, he saw no one, and ate only when

his sister came, who, with eyes streaming with tears, besought him, for her sake, to support nature. At last, no

longer capable of bearing stillness and solitude, he left his house, roamed from street to street, anxious to fly

that image which haunted him. His dress became neglected, and he wandered, as often exposed to the

noonday sun as to the midnight damps. He was no longer to be recognized; at first he returned with

evening to the house; but at last he laid him down to rest wherever fatigue overtook him. His sister, anxious

for his safety, employed people to follow him; but they were soon distanced by him who fled from a pursuer

swifter than any from thought. His conduct, however, suddenly changed. Struck with the idea that he left

by his absence the whole of his friends, with a fiend amongst them, of whose presence they were

unconscious, he determined to enter again into society, and watch him closely, anxious to forewarn, in spite

of his oath, all whom Lord Ruthven approached with intimacy. But when he entered into a room, his haggard

and suspicious looks were so striking, his inward shuddering so visible, that his sister was at last obliged to

beg of him to abstain from seeking, for her sake, a society which affected him so strongly. When, however,

remonstrance proved unavailing, the guardians thought proper to interpose, and, fearing that his mind was

becoming alienated, they thought it high time to resume again that trust which had been before imposed upon

Desirous of saving him from the injuries and sufferings he had daily encountered in his wanderings, and of

preventing him from exposing to the general eye those marks of what they considered folly, they engaged a

physician to reside in the house, and take constant care of him. He hardly appeared to notice it, so completely

was his mind absorbed by one terrible subject. His incoherence became at last so great that he was confined

to his chamber. There he would often lie for days, incapable of being roused. He had become emaciated, his

eyes had attained a glassy lustre; the only sign of affection and recollection remaining displayed itself

upon the entry of his sister; then he would sometimes start, and, seizing her hands, with looks that severely

afflicted her, he would desire her not to touch him. "Oh, do not touch him if your love for me is aught, do

not go near him!" When, however, she inquired to whom he referred, his only answer was, "True! true!" and

again he sank into a state, whence not even she could rouse him. This lasted many months: gradually,

however, as the year was passing, his incoherences became less frequent, and his mind threw off a portion of

its gloom, whilst his guardians observed, that several times in the day he would count upon his fingers a

The time had nearly elapsed, when, upon the last day of the year, one of his guardians entering his room,

began to converse with his physician upon the melancholy circumstance of Aubrey's being in so awful a

situation, when his sister was going next day to be married. Instantly Aubrey's attention was attracted; he

asked anxiously to whom. Glad of this mark of returning intellect, of which they feared he had been deprived,

they mentioned the name of the Earl of Marsden. Thinking this was a young Earl whom he had met with in

society, Aubrey seemed pleased, and astonished them still more by his expressing his intention to be present

at the nuptials, and desiring to see his sister. They answered not, but in a few minutes his sister was with him.

He was apparently again capable of being affected by the influence of her lovely smile; for he pressed her to

his breast, and kissed her cheek, wet with tears, flowing at the thought of her brother's being once more alive

to the feelings of affection. He began to speak with all his wonted warmth, and to congratulate her upon her

marriage with a person so distinguished for rank and every accomplishment; when he suddenly perceived a

locket upon her breast; opening it, what was his surprise at beholding the features of the monster who had so

long influenced his life. He seized the portrait in a paroxysm of rage, and trampled it under foot. Upon her

asking him why he thus destroyed the resemblance of her future husband, he looked as if he did not

understand her; then seizing her hands, and gazing on her with a frantic expression of countenance, he

bade her swear that she would never wed this monster, for he But he could not advance it seemed as if

that voice again bade him remember his oath he turned suddenly round, thinking Lord Ruthven was near

him but saw no one. In the meantime the guardians and physician, who had heard the whole, and thought this

was but a return of his disorder, entered, and forcing him from Miss Aubrey, desired her to leave him. He fell

upon his knees to them, he implored, he begged of them to delay but for one day. They, attributing this to the

insanity they imagined had taken possession of his mind endeavoured to pacify him, and retired.

Lord Ruthven had called the morning after the drawingroom, and had been refused with every one else.

When he heard of Aubrey's ill health, he readily understood himself to be the cause of it; but when he learned

that he was deemed insane, his exultation and pleasure could hardly be concealed from those among whom

he had gained this information. He hastened to the house of his former companion, and, by constant

attendance, and the pretence of great affection for the brother and interest in his fate, he gradually won the ear

of Miss Aubrey. Who could resist his power? His tongue had dangers and toils to recount could speak of

himself as of an individual having no sympathy with any being on the crowded earth, save with her to whom

he addressed himself; could tell how, since he knew her, his existence had begun to seem worthy of

preservation, if it were merely that he might listen her soothing accents; in fine, he knew so well how to

use the serpent's art, or such was the will of fate, that he gained her affections. The title of the elder branch

falling at length to him, he obtained an important embassy, which served as an excuse for hastening the

marriage (in spite of her brother's deranged state), which was to take place the very day before his departure

for the continent. Aubrey, when he was left by the physician and his guardians, attempted to bribe the

servants, but in vain. He asked for pen and paper; it was given him; he wrote a letter to his sister, conjuring

her, as she valued her own happiness, her own honour, and the honour of those now in the grave, who once

held her in their arms as their hope and the hope of their house, to delay but for a few hours that marriage, on

which he denounced the most heavy curses. The servants promised they would deliver it; but giving it to the

physician, he thought it better not to harass any more the mind of Miss Aubrey by, what he considered, the

ravings of a maniac. Night passed on without rest to the busy inmates of the house; and Aubrey heard, with a

horror that may more easily be conceived than described, the notes of busy preparation. Morning came, and

the sound of carriages broke upon his ear. Aubrey grew almost frantic. The curiosity of the servants at last

overcame their vigilance; they gradually stole away, leaving him in the custody of an helpless old woman. He

seized the opportunity, with one bound was out of the room, and in a moment found himself in the apartment

where all were nearly assembled. Lord Ruthven was the first to perceive him: he immediately approached,

and, taking his arm by force, hurried him from the room, speechless with rage. When on the staircase, Lord

Ruthven whispered in his ear "Remember your oath, and know, if not my bride to day, your sister is

dishonoured. Women are frail!" So saying, he pushed him towards his attendants, who, roused by the old

woman, had come in search of him. Aubrey could no longer support himself; his rage not finding vent, had

broken a bloodvessel, and he was conveyed to bed. This was not mentioned to his sister, who was not

present when he entered, as the physician was afraid of agitating her. The marriage was solemnized, and the

Aubrey's weakness increased; the effusion of blood produced symptoms of the near approach of death. He

desired his sister's guardians might be called, and when the midnight hour had struck, he related composedly

what the reader has perused he died immediately after. The guardians hastened to protect Miss Aubrey;

but when they arrived, it was too late. Lord Ruthven had disappeared, and Aubrey's sister had glutted the