The Vampire Maid | Page 2

about them, a sitting-room
homely yet cosy without being crowded. With a sigh of infinite relief I
flung down my knapsack and clinched the bargain.
She was a widow with one daughter, whom I did not see the first day,
as she was unwell and confined to her own room, but on the next day
she was somewhat better, and then we met.
The fare was simple, yet it suited me exactly for the time, delicious
milk and butter with home-made scones, fresh eggs and bacon; after a
hearty tea I went early to bed in a condition of perfect content with my
quarters.
Yet happy and tired out as I was I had by no means a comfortable night.
This I put down to the strange bed. I slept certainly, but my sleep was
filled with dreams so that I woke late and unrefreshed; a good walk on
the moor, however, restored me, and I returned with a fine appetite for
breakfast.
Certain conditions of mind, with aggravating circumstances, are
required before even a young man can fall in love at first sight, as
Shakespeare has shown in his Romeo and Juliet. In the city, where
many fair faces passed me every hour, I had remained like a stoic, yet
no sooner did I enter the cottage after that morning walk than I

succumbed instantly before the weird charms of my landlady's daughter,
Ariadne Brunnell.
She was somewhat better this morning and able to meet me at breakfast,
for we had our meals together while I was their lodger. Ariadne was not
beautiful in the strictly classical sense, her complexion being too lividly
white and her expression too set to be quite pleasant at first sight; yet,
as her mother had informed me, she had been ill for some time, which
accounted for that defect. Her features were not regular, her hair and
eyes seemed too black with that strangely white skin, and her lips too
red for any except the decadent harmonies of an Aubrey Beardsley.
Yet my fantastic dreams of the preceding night, with my morning walk,
had prepared me to be enthralled by this modern poster-like invalid.
The loneliness of the moor, with the singing of the ocean, had gripped
my heart with a wistful longing. The incongruity of those flaunting and
evanescent poppy flowers, dashing the giddy tints in the face of that
sober heath, touched me with a shiver as I approached the cottage, and
lastly that weird embodiment of startling contrasts completed my
subjugation.
She rose from her chair as her mother introduced her, and smiled while
she held out her hand. I clasped that soft snowflake, and as I did so a
faint thrill tingled over me and rested on my heart, stopping for the
moment its beating.
This contact seemed also to have affected her as it did me; a clear flush,
like a white flame, lighted up her face, so that it glowed as if an
alabaster lamp had been lit; her black eyes became softer and more
humid as our glances crossed, and her scarlet lips grew moist. She was
a living woman now, while before she had seemed half a corpse.
She permitted her white slender hand to remain in mine longer than
most people do at an introduction, and then she slowly withdrew it, still
regarding me with steadfast eyes for a second or two afterwards.
Fathomless velvety eyes these were, yet before they were shifted from

mine they appeared to have absorbed all my willpower and made me
her abject slave. They looked like deep dark pools of clear water, yet
they filled me with fire and deprived me of strength. I sank into my
chair almost as languidly as I had risen from my bed that morning.
Yet I made a good breakfast, and although she hardly tasted anything,
this strange girl rose much refreshed and with a slight glow of colour
on her cheeks, which improved her so greatly that she appeared
younger and almost beautiful.
I had come here seeking solitude, but since I had seen Ariadne it
seemed as if I had come for her only. She was not very lively; indeed,
thinking back, I cannot recall any spontaneous remark of hers; she
answered my questions by monosyllables and left me to lead in words;
yet she was insinuating and appeared to lead my thoughts in her
direction and speak to me with her eyes. I cannot describe her minutely,
I only know that from the first glance and touch she gave me I was
bewitched and could think of nothing else.
It was a rapid, distracting, and devouring infatuation that possessed me;
all day long I followed her about like a dog, every night I dreamed of
that white glowing face, those steadfast