Varney the Vampire - Or the Feast of Blood by Thomas Preskett Prest
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page 48 of 1443 (03%)
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cleared the air, and rendered it deliciously invigorating and life-like.
The weather had been dull, and there had been for some days a certain heaviness in the atmosphere, which was now entirely removed. The morning sun was shining with uncommon brilliancy, birds were singing in every tree and on every bush; so pleasant, so spirit-stirring, health-giving a morning, seldom had he seen. And the effect upon his spirits was great, although not altogether what it might have been, had all gone on as it usually was in the habit of doing at that house. The ordinary little casualties of evil fortune had certainly from time to time, in the shape of illness, and one thing or another, attacked the family of the Bannerworths in common with every other family, but here suddenly had arisen a something at once terrible and inexplicable. He found Mr. Marchdale up and dressed, and apparently in deep and anxious thought. The moment he saw Henry, he said,-- "Flora is awake, I presume." "Yes, but her mind appears to be much disturbed." "From bodily weakness, I dare say." "But why should she be bodily weak? she was strong and well, ay, as well as she could ever be in all her life. The glow of youth and health was on her cheeks. Is it possible that, in the course of one night, she should become bodily weak to such an extent?" "Henry," said Mr. Marchdale, sadly, "sit down. I am not, as you know, a superstitious man." |
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