"You will, Henry. You will, and not think it too much trouble, dear Henry."
"It can be no trouble, Flora."
"Then I shall rest in peace, for I know that the dreadful vampyre cannot come to me when you are by-"
"The what, Flora!"
"The vampyre, Henry. It was a vampyre."
"Good God, who told you so?"
"No one. I have read of them in the book of travels in Norway, which Mr. Marchdale lent us all."
"Alas, alas!" groaned Henry. "Discard, I pray you, such a thought from your mind."
"Can we discard thoughts. What power have we but from that mind, which is ourselves?"
"True, true."