Varney the Vampire | Page 5

window. It is its finger-nails upon the glass that produces the sound so
like the hail, now that the hail has ceased. Intense fear paralysed the
limbs of that beautiful girl. That one shriek is all she can utter--with
hands clasped, a face of marble, a heart beating so wildly in her bosom,
that each moment it seems as if it would break its confines, eyes
distended and fixed upon the window, she waits, froze with horror. The
pattering and clattering of the nails continue. No word is spoken, and
now she fancies she can trace the darker form of that figure against the
window, and she can see the long arms moving to and fro, feeling for
some mode of entrance. What strange light is that which now gradually
creeps up into the air? red and terrible--brighter and brighter it grows.
The lightning has set fire to a mill, and the reflection of the rapidly
consuming building falls upon that long window. There can be no
mistake. The figure is there, still feeling for an entrance, and clattering
against the glass with its long nails, that appear as if the growth of
many years had been untouched. She tries to scream again but a
choking sensation comes over her, and she cannot. It is too

dreadful--she tries to move--each limb seems weighed down by tons of
lead--she can but in a hoarse faint whisper cry,--
"Help--help--help--help!"
And that one word she repeats like a person in a dream. The red glare
of the fire continues. It throws up the tall gaunt figure in hideous relief
against the long window. It shows, too, upon the one portrait that is in
the chamber, and that portrait appears to fix its eyes upon the
attempting intruder, while the flickering light from the fire makes it
look fearfully life-like. A small pane of glass is broken, and the form
from without introduces a long gaunt hand, which seems utterly
destitute of flesh. The fastening is removed, and one-half of the
window, which opens like folding doors, is swung wide open upon its
hinges.
And yet now she could not scream--she could not move.
"Help!--help!--help!" was all she could say. But, oh, that look of terror
that sat upon her face, it was dreadful--a look to haunt the memory for a
lifetime--a look to obtrude itself upon the happiest moments, and turn
them to bitterness.
The figure turns half round, and the light falls upon the face. It is
perfectly white--perfectly bloodless. The eyes look like polished tin;
the lips are drawn back, and the principal feature next to those dreadful
eyes is the teeth--the fearful looking teeth--projecting like those of
some wild animal, hideously, glaringly white, and fang-like. It
approaches the bed with a strange, gliding movement. It clashes
together the long nails that literally appear to hang from the finger ends.
No sound comes from its lips. Is she going mad--that young and
beautiful girl exposed to so much terror? she has drawn up all her limbs;
she cannot even now say help. The power of articulation is gone, but
the power of movement has returned to her; she can draw herself
slowly along to the other side of the bed from that towards which the
hideous appearance is coming.
But her eyes are fascinated. The glance of a serpent could not have
produced a greater effect upon her than did the fixed gaze of those
awful, metallic-looking eyes that were bent on her face. Crouching
down so that the gigantic height was lost, and the horrible, protruding,
white face was the most prominent object, came on the figure. What
was it?--what did it want there?--what made it look so hideous--so

unlike an inhabitant of the earth, and yet to be on it?
Now she has got to the verge of the bed, and the figure pauses. It
seemed as if when it paused she lost the power to proceed. The clothing
of the bed was now clutched in her hands with unconscious power. She
drew her breath short and thick. Her bosom heaves, and her limbs
tremble, yet she cannot withdraw her eyes from that marble-looking
face. He holds her with his glittering eye.
The storm has ceased--all is still. The winds are hushed; the church
clock proclaims the hour of one: a hissing sound comes from the throat
of the hideous being, and he raises his long, gaunt arms--the lips move.
He advances. The girl places one small foot from the bed on to the floor.
She is unconsciously dragging the clothing with her. The door of the
room is in that direction--can she reach it? Has she power to walk?--can
she withdraw her eyes from the face of the intruder, and so break the
hideous charm? God of Heaven! is it