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CHAPTER 8


   MINA MURRAY'S JOURNAL


Same day, 11 o'clock p.m..--Oh, but I am tired! If it were not that I
had made my diary a duty I should not open it tonight. We had a lovely
walk. Lucy, after a while, was in gay spirits, owing, I think, to some
dear cows who came nosing towards us in a field close to the lighthouse,
and frightened the wits out of us. I believe we forgot every- thing,
except of course, personal fear,and it seemed to wipe the slate clean
and give us a fresh start. We had a capital `severe tea' at Robin Hood's
Bay in a sweet little old- fashioned inn, with a bow window right over
the seaweed- covered rocks of the strand. I believe we should have
shock- ed the `New Woman' with our appetites.Men are more tolerant,
bless them! Then we walked home with some, or rather many, stoppages to
rest, and with our hearts full of a constant dread of wild bulls.

Lucy was really tired, and we intended to creep off to bed as soon as we
could. The young curate came in, however, and Mrs. Westenra asked him to
stay for supper. Lucy and I had both a fight for it with the dusty
miller. I know it was a hard fight on my part, and I am quite heroic. I
think that some day the bishops must get together and see about breed-
ing up a new class of curates, who don't take supper, no matter how hard
they may be pressed to, and who will know when girls are tired.

Lucy is asleep and breathing softly. She has more color in her cheeks
than usual, and looks, oh so sweet. If Mr. Holmwood fell in love with
her seeing her only in the draw- ing room, I wonder what he would say if
he saw her now. Some of the `New Women' writers will some day start an
idea that men and women should be allowed to see each other asleep be-
fore proposing or accepting. But I suppose the `New Woman' won't
condescend in future to accept. She will do the pro- posing herself. And
a nice job she will make of it too! There's some consolation in that. I
am so happy tonight, because dear Lucy seems better. I really believe
she has turned the corner, and that we are over her troubles with
dreaming. I should be quite happy if I only knew if Jona- than . . . God
bless and keep him.


11 August.--Diary again. No sleep now, so I may as well write. I am too
agitated to sleep. We have had such an ad- venture, such an agonizing
experience. I fell asleep as soon as I had closed my diary . . .Suddenly
I became broad awake, and sat up, with a horrible sense of fear upon me,
and of some feeling of emptiness around me. The room was dark, so I
could not see Lucy's bed. I stole across and felt for her. The bed was
empty. I lit a match and found that she was not in the room. The door
was shut, but not locked, as I had left it. I feared to wake her mother,
who has been more than usually ill lately,so threw on some clothes and
got ready to look for her. As I was leaving the room it struck me that
the clothes she wore might give me some clue to her dreaming intention.
Dressing-gown would mean house, dress outside. Dressing-gown and dress
were both in their places. "Thank God," I said to myself, "she cannot be
far, as she is only in her nightdress."

I ran downstairs and looked in the sitting room. Not there! Then I
looked in all the other rooms of the house, with an ever-growing fear
chilling my heart. Finally, I came to the hall door and found it open.
It was not wide open, but the catch of the lock had not caught. The
people of the house are careful to lock the door every night, so I
feared that Lucy must have gone out as she was. There was no time to
think of what might happen. A vague over-mastering fear obscured all
details.

I took a big, heavy shawl and ran out. The clock was striking one as I
was in the Crescent, and there was not a soul in sight. I ran along the
North Terrace, but could see no sign of the white figure which I
expected. At the edge of the West Cliff above the pier I looked across
the harbour to the East Cliff, in the hope or fear, I don't know which,
of seeing Lucy in our favorite seat.

There was a bright full moon, with heavy black, driving clouds, which
threw the whole scene into a fleeting diorama of light and shade as they
sailed across. For a moment or two I could see nothing, as the shadow of
a cloud obscured St. Mary's Church and all around it. Then as the cloud
passed I could see the ruins of the abbey coming into view, and as the
edge of a narrow band of light as sharp as a sword-cut moved along, the
church and churchyard became gradually visible. Whatever my expectation
was, it was not disappointed, for there, on our favorite seat, the
silver light of the moon struck a half-reclining figure,snowy white. The
coming of the cloud was too quick for me to see much,for shadow shut
down on light almost immediately, but it seemed to me as though
something dark stood behind the seat where the white figure shone, and
bent over it. What it was, whe- ther man or beast, I could not tell.

I did not wait to catch another glance, but flew down the steep steps to
the pier and along by the fish-market to the bridge, which was the only
way to reach the East Cliff. The town seemed as dead, for not a soul did
I see. I re- joiced that it was so,for I wanted no witness of poor
Lucy's condition. The time and distance seemed endless, and my knees
trembled and my breath came laboured as I toiled up the endless steps to
the abbey. I must have gone fast, and yet it seemed to me as if my feet
were weighted with lead, and as though every joint in my body were
rusty.

When I got almost to the top I could see the seat and the white figure,
for I was now close enough to distinguish it even through the spells of
shadow. There was undoubtedly something, long and black, bending over
the half-reclining white figure. I called in fright, "Lucy! Lucy!" and
some- thing raised a head, and from where I was I could see a white face
and red, gleaming eyes.

Lucy did not answer,and I ran on to the entrance of the churchyard. As I
entered, the church was between me and the seat, and for a minute or so
I lost sight of her. When I came in view again the cloud had passed, and
the moonlight struck so brilliantly that I could see Lucy half reclining
with her head lying over the back of the seat. She was quite alone, and
there was not a sign of any living thing about.

When I bent over her I could see that she was still asleep. Her lips
were parted, and she was breathing, not softly as usual with her,but in
long, heavy gasps, as though striving to get her lungs full at every
breath. As I came close,she put up her hand in her sleep and pulled the
collar of her nightdress close around her, as though she felt the cold.
I flung the warm shawl over her, and drew the edges tight around her
neck, for I dreaded lest she should get some deadly chill from the night
air, unclad as she was. I feared to wake her all at once, so,in order to
have my hands free to help her, I fastened the shawl at her throat with
a big safety pin. But I must have been clumsy in my anxiety and pinched
or pricked her with it, for by-and-by, when her breathing became
quieter, she put her hand to her throat again and moaned. When I had her
carefully wrapped up I put my shoes on her feet, and then began very
gently to wake her.

At first she did not respond, but gradually she became more and more
uneasy in her sleep, moaning and sighing occa- sionally. At last, as
time was passing fast, and for many other reasons, I wished to get her
home at once, I shook her forcibly, till finally she opened her eyes and
awoke. She did not seem surprised to see me, as, of course, she did not
realize all at once where she was.

Lucy always wakes prettily,and even at such a time,when her body must
have been chilled with cold,and her mind some- what appalled at waking
unclad in a churchyard at night, she did not lose her grace. She
trembled a little, and clung to me. When I told her to come at once with
me home, she rose without a word, with the obedience of a child. As we
passed along, the gravel hurt my feet, and Lucy noticed me wince. She
stopped and wanted to insist upon my taking my shoes,but I would not.
However, when we got to the pathway outside the chruchyard,where there
was a puddle of water, remaining from the storm,I daubed my feet with
mud, using each foot in turn on the other, so that as we went home, no
one, in case we should meet any one, should notice my bare feet.

Fortune favoured us, and we got home without meeting a soul. Once we saw
a man, who seemed not quite sober, pass- ing along a street in front of
us. But we hid in a door till he had disappeared up an opening such as
there are here, steep little closes, or `wynds', as they call them in
Scot- land. My heart beat so loud all the time sometimes I thought I
should faint.I was filled with anxiety about Lucy, not only for her
health, lest she should suffer from the ex- posure, but for her
reputation in case the story should get wind. When we got in, and had
washed our feet, and had said a prayer of thankfulness together, I
tucked her into bed. Before falling asleep she asked, even implored, me
not to say a word to any one, even her mother, about her sleep- walking
adventure.

I hesitated at first,to promise, but on thinking of the state of her
mother's health, and how the knowledge of such a thing would fret her,
and think too, of how such a story might become distorted, nay,
infallibly would, in case it should leak out, I thought it wiser to do
so. I hope I did right. I have locked the door, and the key is tied to
my wrist, so perhaps I shall not be again disturbed. Lucy is sleeping
soundly. The reflex of the dawn is high and far over the sea . . .


Same day, noon.--All goes well. Lucy slept till I woke her and seemed
not to have even changed her side. The ad- venture of the night does not
seem to have harmed her, on the contrary, it has benefited her, for she
looks better this morning than she has done for weeks. I was sorry to
notice that my clumsiness with the safety-pin hurt her. Indeed, it might
have been serious, for the skin of her throat was pierced. I must have
pinched up a piece of loose skin and have transfixed it, for there are
two little red points like pin-pricks, and on the band of her nightdress
was a drop of blood. When I apologised and was concerned about it, she
laughed and petted me, and said she did not even feel it. Fortunately it
cannot leave a scar, as it is so tiny.


Same day, night.--We passed a happy day. The air was clear, and the sun
bright, and there was a cool breeze. We took our lunch to Mulgrave
Woods, Mrs. Westenra driving by the road and Lucy and I walking by the
cliff-path and join- ing her at the gate. I felt a little sad myself,
for I could not but feel how absolutely happy it would have been had
Jonathan been with me. But there! I must only be patient. In the evening
we strolled in the Casino Terrace, and heard some good music by Spohr
and Mackenzie, and went to bed early. Lucy seems more restful than she
has been for some time, and fell asleep at once. I shall lock the door
and secure the key the same as before,though I do not expect any trouble
tonight.


12 August.--My expectations were wrong, for twice dur- ing the night I
was wakened by Lucy trying to get out. She seemed, even in her sleep, to
be a little impatient at find- ing the door shut, and went back to bed
under a sort of protest. I woke with the dawn, and heard the birds
chirp- ing outside of the window. Lucy woke, too, and I was glad to see,
was even better than on the previous morning. All her old gaiety of
manner seemed to have come back, and she came and snuggled in beside me
and told me all about Arthur. I told her how anxious I was about
Jonathan, and then she tried to comfort me. Well, she succeeded
somewhat, for, though sympathy can't alter facts, it can make them more
bearable.


13 August.--Another quiet day, and to bed with the key on my wrist as
before. Again I awoke in the night, and found Lucy sitting up in bed,
still asleep, pointing to the window. I got up quietly, and pulling
aside the blind, looked out. It was brilliant moonlight, and the soft
effect of the light over the sea and sky, merged together in one great
silent mystery, was beautiful beyond words. Between me and the moonlight
flitted a great bat, coming and going in great whirling circles. Once or
twice it came quite close, but was, I suppose,frightened at seeing me,
and flitted away across the harbour towards the abbey. When I came back
from the window Lucy had lain down again, and was sleeping peace- fully.
She did not stir again all night.


14 August.--On the East Cliff, reading and writing all day. Lucy seems
to have become as much in love with the spot as I am, and it is hard to
get her away from it when it is time to come home for lunch or tea or
dinner. This after- noon she made a funny remark.We were coming home for
dinner, and had come to the top of the steps up from the West Pier and
stopped to look at the view, as we generally do. The setting sun, low
down in the sky, was just dropping behind Kettleness. The red light was
thrown over on the East Cliff and the old abbey, and seemed to bathe
everything in a beautiful rosy glow. We were silent for a while, and
suddenly Lucy murmured as if to herself . . .

"His red eyes again! They are just the same." It was such an odd
expression, coming apropos of nothing, that it quite startled me. I
slewed round a little, so as to see Lucy well without seeming to stare
at her, and saw that she was in a half dreamy state, with an odd look on
her face that I could not quite make out, so I said nothing, but
followed her eyes. She appeared to be looking over at our own seat,
whereon was a dark figure seated alone. I was quite a little startled
myself, for it seemed for an instant as if the stranger had great eyes
like burning flames, but a second look dispelled the illusion. The red
sunlight was shining on the windows of St. Mary's Church behind our
seat, and as the sun dipped there was just sufficient change in the
refraction and reflection to make it appear as if the light moved. I
called Lucy's attention to the peculiar effect, and she became herself
with a start, but she looked sad all the same. It may have been that she
was thinking of that terrible night up there. We never refer to it, so I
said nothing, and we went home to dinner. Lucy had a head- ache and went
early to bed. I saw her asleep, and went out for a little stroll myself.

I walked along the cliffs to the westward, and was full of sweet
sadness,for I was thinking of Jonathan. When coming home, it was then
bright moonlight, so bright that, though the front of our part of the
Crescent was in shadow, every- thing could be well seen, I threw a
glance up at our window, and saw Lucy's head leaning out. I opened my
handkerchief and waved it. She did not notice or make any movement what-
ever. Just then, the moonlight crept round an angle of the building, and
the light fell on the window. There distinctly was Lucy with her head
lying up against the side of the win- dow sill and her eyes shut. She
was fast asleep, and by her, seated on the window sill, was something
that looked like a good-sized bird. I was afraid she might get a chill,
so I ran upstairs,but as I came into the room she was moving back to her
bed, fast asleep, and breathing heavily.She was hold- ing her hand to
her throat, as though to protect if from the cold.

I did not wake her, but tucked her up warmly. I have taken care that the
door is locked and the window securely fastened.

She looks so sweet as she sleeps, but she is paler than is her wont, and
there is a drawn, haggard look under her eyes which I do not like. I
fear she is fretting about some- thing. I wish I could find out what it
is.


15 August.--Rose later than usual. Lucy was languid and tired, and slept
on after we had been called. We had a happy surprise at breakfast.
Arthur's father is better, and wants the marriage to come off soon. Lucy
is full of quiet joy, and her mother is glad and sorry at once.Later on
in the day she told me the cause. She is grieved to lose Lucy as her
very own, but she is rejoiced that she is soon to have some one to
protect her. Poor dear, sweet lady! She confided to me that she has got
her death warrant.She has not told Lucy, and made me promise secrecy.
Her doctor told her that within a few months, at most, she must die, for
her heart is weak- ening. At any time, even now, a sudden shock would be
almost sure to kill her.Ah,we were wise to keep from her the affair of
the dreadful night of Lucy's sleep-walking.


17 August.--No diary for two whole days. I have not had the heart to
write. Some sort of shadowy pall seems to be coming over our happiness.
No news from Jonathan, and Lucy seems to be growing weaker, whilst her
mother's hours are numbering to a close. I do not understand Lucy's
fading away as she is doing. She eats well and sleeps well, and enjoys
the fresh air, but all the time the roses in her cheeks are fading, and
she gets weaker and more languid day by day. At night I hear her gasping
as if for air.

I keep the key of our door always fastened to my wrist at night, but she
gets up and walks about the room, and sits at the open window. Last
night I found her leaning out when I woke up, and when I tried to wake
her I could not.

She was in a faint. When I managed to restore her, she was weak as
water, and cried silently between long, painful struggles for breath.
When I asked her how she came to be at the window she shook her head and
turned away.

I trust her feeling ill may not be from that unlucky prick of the
safety-pin. I looked at her throat just now as she lay asleep, and the
tiny wounds seem not to have healed. They are still open, and, if
anything, larger than before, and the edges of them are faintly
white.They are like little white dots with red centres. Unless they heal
within a day or two, I shall insist on the doctor seeing about them.


LETTER, SAMUEL F. BILLINGTON & SON, SOLICITORS
 WHITBY,TO MESSRS. CARTER, PATERSON & CO., LONDON.

 17 August

"Dear Sirs, --

"Herewith please receive invoice of goods sent by Great Northern
Railway. Same are to be delivered at Carfax, near Purfleet, immediately
on receipt at goods station King's Cross. The house is at present empty,
but enclosed please find keys, all of which are labelled.

"You will please deposit the boxes, fifty in number, which form the
consignment, in the partially ruined building forming part of the house
and marked `A' on rough diagrams enclosed. Your agent will easily
recognize the locality, as it is the ancient chapel of the mansion. The
goods leave by the train at 9:30 tonight, and will be due at King's
Cross at 4:30 tomorrow afternoon. As our client wishes the deliv- ery
made as soon as possible, we shall be obliged by your having teams ready
at King's Cross at the time named and forthwith conveying the goods to
destination. In order to obviate any delays possible through any routine
requirements as to payment in your departments,we enclose cheque
herewith for ten pounds, receipt of which please acknowledge. Should the
charge be less than this amount, you can return balance, if greater, we
shall at once send cheque for difference on hearing from you. You are to
leave the keys on coming away in the main hall of the house, where the
proprietor may get them on his entering the house by means of his
duplicate key.

"Pray do not take us as exceeding the bounds of busi- ness courtesy in
pressing you in all ways to use the utmost expedition.
 "We are, dear Sirs,
 "Faithfully yours,
 "SAMUEL F. BILLINGTON & SON"


 LETTER, MESSRS. CARTER, PATERSON & CO., LONDON, TO MESSRS. BILLINGTON &
SON, WHITBY.

21 August.

"Dear Sirs,--

"We beg to acknowledge 10 pounds received and to return cheque of 1
pound, 17s, 9d, amount of overplus, as shown in receipted account
herewith. Goods are delivered in exact accordance with instructions, and
keys left in parcel in main hall, as directed.
 "We are, dear Sirs,
 "Yours respectfully,
 "Pro CARTER, PATERSON & CO."


 MINA MURRAY'S JOURNAL.


18 August.--I am happy today, and write sitting on the seat in the
churchyard. Lucy is ever so much better. Last night she slept well all
night, and did not disturb me once.

The roses seem coming back already to her cheeks,though she is still
sadly pale and wan-looking. If she were in any way anemic I could
understand it, but she is not. She is in gay spirits and full of life
and cheerfulness.All the morbid reticence seems to have passed from her,
and she has just reminded me, as if I needed any reminding, of that
night,and that it was here, on this very seat, I found her asleep.

As she told me she tapped playfully with the heel of her boot on the
stone slab and said,

"My poor little feet didn't make much noise then! I daresay poor old Mr.
Swales would have told me that it was because I didn't want to wake up
Geordie."

As she was in such a communicative humour, I asked her if she had
dreamed at all that night.

Before she answered,that sweet, puckered look came into her forehead,
which Arthur,I call him Arthur from her habit, says he loves, and
indeed, I don't wonder that he does. Then she went on in a half-dreaming
kind of way, as if trying to recall it to herself.

"I didn't quite dream, but it all seemed to be real. I only wanted to be
here in this spot. I don't know why, for I was afraid of something, I
don't know what. I remember, though I suppose I was asleep, passing
through the streets and over the bridge. A fish leaped as I went by, and
I lean- ed over to look at it, and I heard a lot of dogs howling.The
whole town seemed as if it must be full of dogs all howling at once, as
I went up the steps. Then I had a vague memory of something long and
dark with red eyes, just as we saw in the sunset, and something very
sweet and very bitter all around me at once. And then I seemed sinking
into deep green water, and there was a singing in my ears, as I have
heard there is to drowning men, and then everything seemed passing away
from me. My soul seemed to go out from my body and float about the air.
I seem to remember that once the West Lighthouse was right under me, and
then there was a sort of agonizing feeling, as if I were in an
earthquake, and I came back and found you shaking my body. I saw you do
it before I felt you."

Then she began to laugh. It seemed a little uncanny to me, and I
listened to her breathlessly. I did not quite like it,and thought it
better not to keep her mind on the subject, so we drifted on to another
subject, and Lucy was like her old self again. When we got home the
fresh breeze had braced her up, and her pale cheeks were really more
rosy.Her mother rejoiced when she saw her, and we all spent a very happy
evening together.


19 August.--Joy, joy, joy! Although not all joy. At last, news of
Jonathan. The dear fellow has been ill, that is why he did not write. I
am not afraid to think it or to say it, now that I know. Mr. Hawkins
sent me on the letter, and wrote himself, oh so kindly. I am to leave in
the morn- ing and go over to Jonathan, and to help to nurse him if
necessary, and to bring him home. Mr. Hawkins says it would not be a bad
thing if we were to be married out there. I have cried over the good
Sister's letter till I can feel it wet against my bosom, where it lies.
It is of Jonathan, and must be near my heart, for he is in my heart. My
journey is all mapped out, and my luggage ready. I am only taking one
change of dress. Lucy will bring my trunk to London and keep it till I
send for it, for it may be that . . . I must write no more. I must keep
it to say to Jonathan, my husband. The letter that he has seen and
touched must comfort me till we meet.

 LETTER, SISTER AGATHA, HOSPITAL OF ST. JOSEPH AND STE. MARY
 BUDA-PESTH, TO MISS WILLHELMINA MURRAY

12 August,

"Dear Madam.

"I write by desire of Mr. Jonathan Harker, who is him- self not strong
enough to write, though progressing well, thanks to God and St. Joseph
and Ste. Mary. He has been under our care for nearly six weeks,
suffering from a vio- lent brain fever. He wishes me to convey his love,
and to say that by this post I write for him to Mr. Peter Hawkins,
Exeter, to say, with his dutiful respects, that he is sorry for his
delay, and that all of his work is completed.He will require some few
weeks' rest in our sanatorium in the hills, but will then return. He
wishes me to say that he has not sufficient money with him, and that he
would like to pay for his staying here,so that others who need shall not
be want- ing for belp.

 Believe me,

 Yours, with sympathy

 and all blessings.
 Sister Agatha"


"P.S.--My patient being asleep, I open this to let you know something
more. He has told me all about you, and that you are shortly to be his
wife. All blessings to you both! He has had some fearful shock,so says
our doctor, and in his delirium his ravings have been dreadful,of wolves
and poison and blood, of ghosts and demons, and I fear to say of what.
Be careful of him always that there may be nothing to excite him of this
kind for a long time to come. The traces of such an illness as his do
not lightly die away. We should have written long ago, but we knew
nothing of his friends, and there was nothing on him, nothing that
anyone could under- stand. He came in the train from Klausenburg, and
the guard was told by the station master there that he rushed into the
station shouting for a ticket for home. Seeing from his violent demeanor
that he was English, they gave him a ticket for the furthest station on
the way thither that the train reached.

"Be assured that he is well cared for. He has won all hearts by his
sweetness and gentleness. He is truly getting on well, and I have no
doubt will in a few weeks be all him- self. But be careful of him for
safety's sake. There are,I pray God and St.Joseph and Ste.Mary, many,
many, happy years for you both."

DR. SEWARD'S DIARY


19 Agust.--Strange and sudden change in Renfield last night. About eight
o'clock he began to get excited and sniff about as a dog does when
setting. The attendant was struck by his manner, and knowing my interest
in him, encouraged him to talk. He is usually respectful to the
attendant and at times servile, but tonight, the man tells me, he was
quite haughty. Would not condescend to talk with him at all.

All he would say was, "I don't want to talk to you. You don't count now.
The master is at hand."

The attendant thinks it is some sudden form of relig- ious mania which
has seized him. If so, we must look out for squalls, for a strong man
with homicidal and religious mania at once might be dangerous.The
combination is a dreadful one.

At Nine o'clock I visited him myself.His attitude to me was the same as
that to the attendant. In his sublime self- feeling the difference
between myself and the attendant seemed to him as nothing. It looks like
religious mania, and he will soon think that he himself is God.

These infinitesimal distinctions between man and man are too paltry for
an Omnipotent Being.How these madmen give themselves away! The real God
taketh heed lest a sparrow fall. But the God created from human vanity
sees no differ- ence between an eagle and a sparrow. Oh, if men only
knew!

For half an hour or more Renfield kept getting excited in greater and
greater degree.I did not pretend to be watch- ing him, but I kept strict
observation all the same. All at once that shifty look came into his
eyes which we always see when a madman has seized an idea, and with it
the shifty movement of the head and back which asylum attendants come to
know so well. He became quite quiet, and went and sat on the edge of his
bed resignedly, and looked into space with lack-luster eyes.

I thought I would find out if his apathy were real or only assumed, and
tried to lead him to talk of his pets, a theme which had never failed to
excite his attention.

At first he made no reply, but at length said testily, "Bother them all!
I don't care a pin about them."

"What" I said. "You don't mean to tell me you don't care about spiders?"
(Spiders at present are his hobby and the notebook is filling up with
columns of small figures.)

To this he answered enigmatically, "The Bride maidens rejoice the eyes
that wait the coming of the bride. But when the bride draweth nigh, then
the maidens shine not to the eyes that are filled."

He would not explain himself, but remained obstinately seated on his bed
all the time I remained with him.

I am weary tonight and low in spirits. I cannot but think of Lucy, and
how different things might have been. If I don't sleep at once, chloral,
the modern Morpheus! I must be careful not to let it grow into a habit.
No, I shall take none tonight! I have thought of Lucy, and I shall not
dis- honour her by mixing the two. If need by, tonight shall be
sleepless.


Later.--Glad I made the resolution, gladder that I kept to it. I had
lain tossing about, and had heard the clock strike only twice, when the
night watchman came to me, sent up from the ward, to say that Renfield
had escaped. I threw on my clothes and ran down at once. My patient is
too dan- gerous a person to be roaming about. Those ideas of his might
work out dangerously with strangers.

The attendant was waiting for me. He said he had seen him not ten
minutes before, seemingly asleep in his bed,when he had looked through
the observation trap in the door. His attention was called by the sound
of the window being wrench- ed out. He ran back and saw his feet
disappear through the window, and had at once sent up for me. He was
only in his night gear, and cannot be far off.

The attendant thought it would be more useful to watch where he should
go than to follow him,as he might lose sight of him whilst getting out
of the building by the door. He is a bulky man, and couldn't get through
the window.

I am thin, so, with his aid, I got out, but feet fore- most, and as we
were only a few feet above ground landed unhurt.

The attendant told me the patient had gone to the left, and had taken a
straight line, so I ran as quickly as I could. As I got through the belt
of trees I saw a white figure scale the high wall which separates our
grounds from those of the deserted house.

I ran back at once, told the watchman to get three or four men
immediately and follow me into the grounds of Car- fax, in case our
friend might be dangerous. I got a ladder myself, and crossing the
wall,dropped down on the other side. I could see Renfield's figure just
disappearing behind the angle of the house, so I ran after him. On the
far side of the house I found him pressed close against the old iron-
bound oak door of the chapel.

He was talking, apparently to some one,but I was afraid to go near
enough to hear what he was saying, les t I might frighten him, and he
should run off.

Chasing an errant swarm of bees is nothing to following a naked lunatic,
when the fit of escaping is upon him! After a few minutes, however,I
could see that he did not take note of anything around him, and so
ventured to draw nearer to him, the more so as my men had now crossed
the wall and were closing him in. I heard him say . . .

"I am here to do your bidding, Master. I am your slave, and you will
reward me, for I shall be faithful. I have worshipped you long and afar
off. Now that you are near, I await your commands, and you will not pass
me by, will you, dear Master, in your distribution of good things?"

He is a selfish old beggar anyhow. He thinks of the loaves and fishes
even when he believes his is in a real Presence. His manias make a
startling combination. When we closed in on him he fought like a tiger.
He is immensely strong, for he was more like a wild beast than a man.

I never saw a lunatic in such a paroxysm of rage before, and I hope I
shall not again. It is a mercy that we have found out his strength and
his danger in good time. With strength and determination like his, he
might have done wild work before he was caged.

He is safe now, at any rate. Jack Sheppard himself couldn't get free
from the strait waistcoat that keeps him restrained, and he's chained to
the wall in the padded room.

His cries are at times awful, but the silences that follow are more
deadly still, for he means murder in every turn and movement.

Just now he spoke coherent words for the first time. "I shall be
patient, Master. It is coming, coming, coming!"

So I took the hint, and came too. I was too excited to sleep, but this
diary has quieted me, and I feel I shall get some sleep tonight.


CHAPTER 9


 LETTER, MINA HARKER TO LUCY WESTENRA


      Buda-Pesth, 24 August.

"My dearest Lucy,

"I know you will be anxious to hear all that has happ- ened since we
parted at the railway station at Whitby.

 "Well, my dear, I got to Hull all right, and caught the boat to
Hamburg, and then the train on here. I feel that I can hardly recall
anything of the journey, except that I knew I was coming to Jonathan,
and that as I should have to do some nursing, I had better get all the
sleep I could. I found my dear one, oh, so thin and pale and weak-
looking. All the resolution has gone out of his dear eyes, and that
quiet dignity which I told you was in his face has vanished. He is only
a wreck of himself, and he does not remember anything that has happened
to him for a long time past. At least, he wants me to believe so, and I
shall never ask.

"He has had some terrible shock, and I fear it might tax his poor brain
if he were to try to recall it. Sister Agatha, who is a good creature
and a born nurse, tells me that he wanted her to tell me what they were,
but she would only cross herself, and say she would never tell. That the
ravings of the sick were the secrets of God, and that if a nurse through
her vocation should hear them, she should re- spect her trust..

"She is a sweet, good soul, and the next day, when she saw I was
troubled, she opened up the subject my poor dear raved about, added, `I
can tell you this much, my dear. That it was not about anything which he
has done wrong him- self, and you, as his wife to be, have no cause to
be con- cerned. He has not forgotten you or what he owes to you. His
fear was of great and terrible things, which no mortal can treat of.'

"I do believe the dear soul thought I might be jealous lest my poor dear
should have fallen in love with any other girl. The idea of my being
jealous about Jonathan! And yet, my dear, let me whisper, I felt a
thrill of joy through me when I knew that no other woman was a cause for
trouble. I am now sitting by his bedside,where I can see his face while
he sleeps. He is waking!

"When he woke he asked me for his coat, as he wanted to get something
from the pocket. I asked Sister Agatha, and she brought all his things.
I saw amongst them was his note- book, and was was going to ask him to
let me look at it, for I knew that I might find some clue to his
trouble,but I sup- pose he must have seen my wish in my eyes, for he
sent me over to the window, saying he wanted to be quite alone for a
moment.

"Then he called me back,and he said to me very solemnly, `Wilhelmina', I
knew then that he was in deadly earnest, for he has never called me by
that name since he asked me to marry him, `You know, dear, my ideas of
the trust between husband and wife. There should be no secret, no
concealment. I have had a great shock, and when I try to think of what
it is I feel my head spin round, and I do not know if it was real of the
dreaming of a madman.You know I had brain fever, and that is to be mad.
The secret is here, and I do not want to know it. I want to take up my
life here, with our marri- age.' For, my dear, we had decided to be
married as soon as the formalities are complete. `Are you willing,
Wilhelmina, to share my ignorance? Here is the book. Take it and keep
it,read it if you will,but never let me know unless, indeed, some solemn
duty should come upon me to go back to the bitter hours, asleep or
awake, sane or mad, recorded here.' He fell back exhausted, and I put
the book under his pillow, and kissed him. have asked Sister Agatha to
beg the Super- ior to let our wedding be this afternoon, and am waiting
her reply . . ."


"She has come and told me that the Chaplain of the En- glish mission
church has been sent for. We are to be married in an hour, or as soon
after as Jonathan awakes."


"Lucy, the time has come and gone. I feel very solemn, but very, very
happy. Jonathan woke a little after the hour, and all was ready, and he
sat up in bed, propped up with pillows. He answered his `I will' firmly
and strong. I could hardly speak. My heart was so full that even those
words seemed to choke me.

"The dear sisters were so kind. Please, God, I shall never, never forget
them, nor the grave and sweet respon- sibilities I have taken upon me. I
must tell you of my wedding present. When the chaplain and the sisters
had left me alone with my husband--oh, Lucy, it is the first time I have
written the words `my husband'--left me alone with my husband, I took
the book from under his pillow, and wrapped it up in white paper, and
tied it with a little bit of pale blue ribbon which was round my neck,
and sealed it over the knot with sealing wax, and for my seal I used my
wedding ring. Then I kissed it and showed it to my husband, and told him
that I would keep it so, and then it would be an outward and visible
sign for us all our lives that we trusted each other, that I would never
open it unless it were for his own dear sake or for the sake of some
stern duty. Then he took my hand in his, and oh, Lucy, it was the first
time he took his wifes' hand, and said that it was the dearest thing in
all the wide world,and that he would go through all the past again to
win it, if need be.The poor dear meant to have said a part of the past,
but he cannot think of time yet, and I shall not wonder if at first he
mixes up not only the month, but the year.

"Well, my dear, could I say? I could only tell him that I was the
happiest woman in all the wide world, and that I had nothing to give him
except myself, my life,and my trust, and that with these went my love
and duty for all the days of my life. And, my dear, when he kissed me,
and drew me to him with his poor weak hands, it was like a solemn pledge
between us.


"Lucy dear, do you know why I tell you all this? It is not only because
it is all sweet to me, but because you have been, and are, very dear to
me. It was my privilege to be your friend and guide when you came from
the schoolroom to prepare for the world of life. I want you to see now,
and with the eyes of a very happy wife, whither duty has led me, so that
in your own married life you too may be all happy, as I am. My dear,
please Almighty God, your life may be all it promises, a long day of
sunshine, with no harsh wind, no forgetting duty, no distrust. I must
not wish you no pain, for that can never be, but I do hope you will be
always as happy as I am now. Goodbye, my dear. I shall post this at
once, and perhaps, write you very soon again. I must stop, for Jonathan
is waking. I must attend my husband!
 "Your ever-loving
 "Mina Harker."

LETTER, LUCY WESTENRA TO MINA HARKER.

 Whitby, 30 August.

"My dearest Mina,

"Oceans of love and millions of kisses, and may you soon be in your own
home with your husband. I wish you were coming home soon enough to stay
with us here. The strong air would soon restore Jonathan. It has quite
restored me. I have an appetite like a cormorant, am full of life,and
sleep well. You will be glad to know that I have quite given up walking
in my sleep. I think I have not stirred out of my bed for a week, that
is when I once got into it at night. Arthur says I am getting fat. By
the way, I forgot to tell you that Arthur is here. We have such walks
and drives, and rides, and rowing, and tennis, and fishing together, and
I love him more than ever. He tells me that he loves me more, but I
doubt that, for at first he told me that he couldn't love me more than
he did then. But this is nonsense. There he is, calling to me. So no
more just at present from your loving,
 "Lucy.


"P.S.--Mother sends her love. She seems better, poor dear.

"P.P.S.--We are to be married on 28 September."

 DR. SEWARDS DIARY


20 August.--The case of Renfield grows even more in- teresting. He has
now so far quieted that there are spells of cessation from his passion.
For the first week after his attack he was perpetually violent. Then one
night, just as the moon rose, he grew quiet, and kept murmuring to
himself. "Now I can wait. Now I can wait."

The attendant came to tell me, so I ran down at once to have a look at
him. He was still in the strait waistcoat and in the padded room, but
the suffused look had gone from his face, and his eyes had something of
their old pleading. I might almost say, cringing, softness. I was
satisfied with his present condition, and directed him to be relieved.
The attendants hesitated, but finally carried out my wishes without
protest.

It was a strange thing that the patient had humour enough to see their
distrust, for, coming close to me, he said in a whisper, all the while
looking furtively at them, "They think I could hurt you! Fancy me
hurting you! The fools!"

It was soothing, somehow, to the feelings to find my- self disassociated
even in the mind of this poor madman from the others, but all the same I
do not follow his thought. Am I to take it that I have anything in
common with him,so that we are, as it were, to stand together.Or has he
to gain from me some good so stupendous that my well being is needful to
Him? I must find out later on. Tonight he will not speak. Even the offer
of a kitten or even a full-grown cat will not tempt him.

He will only say, "I don't take any stock in cats. I have more to think
of now, and I can wait. I can wait."

After a while I left him. The attendant tells me that he was quiet until
just before dawn, and that then he began to get uneasy, and at length
violent, until at last he fell into a paroxysm which exhausted him so
that he swooned into a sort of coma.


. . . Three nights has the same thing happened, violent all day then
quiet from moonrise to sunrise. I wish I could get some clue to the
cause. It would almost seem as if there was some influence which came
and went. Happy thought! We shall tonight play sane wits against mad
ones. He escaped before without our help. Tonight he shall escape with
it. We shall give him a chance, and have the men ready to follow in case
they are required.


23 August.--"The expected always happens." How well Disraeli knew life.
Our bird when he found the cage open would not fly,so all our subtle
arrangements were for nought. At any rate, we have proved one thing,
that the spells of quietness last a reasonable time. We shall in future
be able to ease his bonds for a few hours each day. I have given orders
to the night attendant merely to shut him in the pad- ded room, when
once he is quiet, until the hour before sun- rise. The poor soul's body
will enjoy the relief even if his mind cannot appreciate it. Hark! The
unexpected again! I am called. The patient has once more escaped.


Later.--Another night adventure.Renfield artfully wait- ed until the
attendant was entering the room to inspect. Then he dashed out past him
and flew down the passage. I sent word for the attendants to follow.
Again he went into the grounds of the deserted house, and we found him
in the same place, pressed against the old chapel door. When he saw me
he became furious, and had not the attendants seized him in time, he
would have tried to kill me. As we sere holding him a strange thing
happened. He suddenly redoubled his eff- orts, and then as suddenly grew
calm.I looked round instinc- tively, but could see nothing. Then I
caught the patient's eye and followed it, but could trace nothing as it
looked into the moonlight sky, except a big bat, which was flapping its
silent and ghostly way to the west. Bats usually wheel about, but this
one seemed to go straight on, as if it knew where it was bound for or
had some intention of its own.

The patient grew calmer every instant, and presently said, "You needn't
tie me. I shall go quietly!" Without trouble, we came back to the house.
I feel there is some- thing ominous in his calm, and shall not forget
this night.


 LUCY WESTENRA'S DIARY


Hillingham, 24 August.--I must imitate Mina, and keep writing things
down. Then we can have long talks when we do meet. I wonder when it will
be. I wish she were with me again, for I feel so unhappy. Last night I
seemed to be dreaming again just as I was at Whitby. Perhaps it is the
change of air, or getting home again. It is all dark and horrid to me,
for I can remember nothing. But I am full of vague fear, and I feel so
weak and worn out. When Arthur came to lunch he looked quite grieved
when he saw me, and I hadn't the spirit to try to be cheerful. I wonder
if I could sleep in mother's room tonight.I shall make an excuse to try.


25 August.--Another bad night. Mother did not seem to take to my
proposal. She seems not too well herself, and doubtless she fears to
worry me. I tried to keep awake, and succeeded for a while, but when the
clock struck twelve it waked me from a doze, so I must have been falling
asleep. There was a sort of scratching or flapping at the window, but I
did not mind it, and as I remember no more, I suppose I must have fallen
asleep. More bad dreams. I wish I could remember them. This morning I am
horribly weak. My face is ghastly pale, and my throat pains me. It must
be something wrong with my lungs, for I don't seem to be getting air
enough. I shall try to cheer up when Arthur comes, or else I know he
will be miserable to see me so.


 LETTER, ARTHUR TO DR. SEWARD

 "Albemarle Hotel, 31 August "My dear Jack,

"I want you to do me a favour. Lucy is ill, that is she has no special
disease, but she looks awful, and is getting worse every day. I have
asked her if there is any cause, I not dare to ask her mother, for to
disturb the poor lady's mind about her daughter in her present state of
health would be fatal. Mrs. Westenra has confided to me that her doom is
spoken, disease of the heart, though poor Lucy does not know it yet. I
am sure that there is something preying on my dear girl's mind. I am
almost distracted when I think of her. To look at her gives me a pang. I
told her I should ask you to see her, and though she demurred at first,
I know why, old fellow, she finally consented. It will be a painful task
for you, I know, old friend, but it is for her sake, and I must not
hesitate to ask, or you to act. You are to come to lunch at Hillingham
tomorrow, two o'clock, so as not to arouse any suspicion in Mrs.
Westenra,and after lunch Lucy will take an opportunity of being alone
with you. I am filled with anxiety, and want to consult with you alone
as soon as I can after you have seen her. Do not fail!
 "Arthur."
 TELEGRAM, ARTHUR HOLMWOOD TO SEWARD


 1 September


"Am summoned to see my father, who is worse.Am writing. Write me fully
by tonight's post to Ring. Wire me if neces- sary."

 LETTER FROM DR. SEWARD TO ARTHUR HOLMWOOD


 2 September

"My dear old fellow,

"With regard to Miss Westenra's health I hasten to let you know at once
that in my opinion there is not any funct- al disturbance or any malady
that I know of. At the same time, I am not by any means satisfied with
her appearance. She is woefully different from what she was when I saw
her last. Of course you must bear in mind that I did not have full
opportunity of examination such as I should wish. Our very friendship
makes a little difficulty which not even medical science or custom can
bridge over. I had better tell you exactly what happened,leaving you to
draw, in a measure, your own conclusions. I shall then say what I have
done and propose doing.

"I found Miss Westenra in seemingly gay spirits. Her mother was present,
and in a few seconds I made up my mind that she was trying all she knew
to mislead her mother and prevent her from being anxious. I have no
doubt she guesses, if she does not know, what need of caution there is.

"We lunched alone, and as we all exerted ourselves to be cheerful, we
got, as some kind of reward for our labours, some real cheerfulness
amongst us. Then Mrs. Westenra went to lie down, and Lucy was left with
me. We went into her boudoir, and till we got there her gaiety remained,
for the servants were coming and going.

"As soon as the door was closed, however, the mask fell from her face,
and she sank down into a chair with a great sigh, and hid her eyes with
her hand. When I saw that her high spirits had failed, I at once took
advantage of her re- action to make a diagnosis.

"She said to me very sweetly, `I cannot tell you how I loathe talking
about myself.' I reminded her that a doctor's confidence was sacred, but
that you were grievously anxious about her. She caught on to my meaning
at once, and settled that matter in a word. `Tell Arthur everything you
choose. I do not care for myself, but for him!' So I am quite free.

"I could easily see that she was somewhat bloodless,but I could not see
the usual anemic signs, and by the chance ,I was able to test the actual
quality of her blood, for in opening a window which was stiff a cord
gave way,and she cut her hand slightly with broken glass. It was a
slight matter in itself, but it gave me an evident chance, and I secured
a few drops of the blood and have analysed them.

"The qualitative analysis give a quite normal condition, and shows, I
should infer, in itself a vigorous state of health. In other physical
matters I was quite satisfied that there is no need for anxiety, but as
there must be a cause somewhere, I have come to the conclusion that it
must be something mental.

"She complains of difficulty breathing satisfactorily at times, and of
heavy, lethargic sleep, with dreams that frighten her, but regarding
which she can remember nothing. She says that as a child, she used to
walk in her sleep, and that when in Whitby the habit came back, and that
once she walked out in the night and went to East Cliff, where Miss
Murray found her. But she assures me that of late the habit has not
returned.

"I am in doubt, and so have done the best thing I know of. I have
written to my old friend and master, Professor Van Helsing, of
Amsterdam, who knows as much about obscure diseases as any one in the
world. I have asked him to come over, and as you told me that all things
were to be at your charge, I have mentioned to him who you are and your
rela- tions to Miss Westenra. This, my dear fellow, is in obed- ience to
your wishes, for I am only too proud and happy to do anything I can for
her.

"Van Helsing would, I know, do anything for me for a personal reason, so
no matter on what ground he comes, we must accept his wishes. He is a
seemingly arbitrary man, this is because he knows what he is talking
about better than any one else. He is a philosopher and a metaphysician,
and one of the most advanced scientists of his day, and he has, I
believe, an absolutely open mind. This, with an iron nerve,a temper of
the ice-brook, and indomitable resolution, self-command, and toleration
exalted from virtues to bless- ings, and the kindliest and truest heart
that beats, these form his equipment for the noble work that he is doing
for mankind, work both in theory and practice, for his views are as wide
as his all-embracing sympathy.I tell you these facts that you may know
why I have such confidence in him. I have asked him to come at once.I
shall see Miss Westenra tomorrow again. She is to meet me at the Stores,
so that I may not alarm her mother by too early a repetition of my call.

"Yours always."

 John Seward

 LETTER, ABRAHAM VAN HELSING, MD, DPh, D. LiT, ETC, ETC,
 TO DR. SEWARD


 2 September.

"My good Friend,

"When I received your letter I am already coming to you. By good fortune
I can leave just at once, without wrong to any of those who have trusted
me. Were fortune other, then it were bad for those who have trusted, for
I come to my friend when he call me to aid those he holds dear. Tell
your friend that when that time you suck from my wound so swiftly the
poison of the gangrene from that knife that our other friend, too
nervous, let slip, you did more for him when he wants my aids and you
call for them than all his great for- tune could do. But it is pleasure
added to do for him, your friend, it is to you that I come. Have near at
hand, and please it so arrange that we may see the young lady not too
late on tomorrow, for it is likely that I may have to return here that
night. But if need be I shall come again in three days, and stay longer
if it must. Till then goodbye, my friend John.

 "Van Helsing."

 LETTER, DR. SEWARD TO HON. ARTHUR HOLMWOOD


 3 September

"My dear Art,

"Van Helsing has come and gone. He came on with me to Hillingham, and
found that, by Lucy's discretion, her mother was lunching out, so that
we were alone with her.

"Van Helsing made a very careful examination of the patient. He is to
report to me, and I shall advise you, for of course I was not present
all the time. He is, I fear, much concerned, but says he must think.
When I told him of our friendship and how you trust to me in the
matter,he said, `You must tell him all you think. Tell him him what I
think, if you can guess it, if you will. Nay, I am not jesting. This is
no jest, but life and death, perhaps more.' I asked what he meant by
that, for he was very serious. This was when we had come back to
town,and he was having a cup of tea before starting on his return to
Amsterdam.He would not give me any further clue. You must not be angry
with me, Art, be- cause his very reticence means that all his brains are
work- ing for her good. He will speak plainly enough when the time
comes, be sure.So I told him I would simply write an account of our
visit, just as if I were doing a descriptive special article for THE
DAILY TELEGRAPH.He seemed not to notice, but remarked that the smuts of
London were not quite so bad as they used to be when he was a student
here. I am to get his report tomorrow if he can possibly make it. In any
case I am to have a letter.

"Well, as to the visit, Lucy was more cheerful than on the day I first
saw her, and certainly looked better. She had lost something of the
ghastly look that so upset you,and her breathing was normal.She was very
sweet to the Professor (as she always is),and tried to make him feel at
ease,though I could see the poor girl was making a hard struggle for it.

"I believe Van Helsing saw it, too, for I saw the quick look under his
bushy brows that I knew of old. Then he began to chat of all things
except ourselves and diseases and with such an infinite geniality that I
could see poor Lucy's pre- tense of animation merge into reality. Then,
without any seeming change, he brought the conversation gently round to
his visit, and sauvely said,

"`My dear young miss, I have the so great pleasure be- cause you are so
much beloved. That is much, my dear, even were there that which I do not
see. They told me you were down in the spirit, and that you were of a
ghastly pale. To them I say "Pouf!" ' And he snapped his fingers at me
and went on. `But you and I shall show them how wrong they are. How can
he', and he pointed at me with the same look and gesture as that with
which he pointed me out in his class, on, or rather after, a particular
occasion which he never fails to remind me of, `know anything of a young
ladies? He has his madmen to play with,and to bring them back to happi-
ness, and to those that love them. It is much to do, and, oh, but there
are rewards in that we can bestow such happi- ness.But the young ladies!
He has no wife nor daughter, and the young do not tell themselves to the
young, but to the old, like me, who have known so many sorrows and the
causes of them.So, my dear, we will send him away to smoke the cig-
arette in the garden, whiles you and I have little talk all to
ourselves.' I took the hint, and strolled about, and pre- sently the
professor came to the window and called me in. He looked grave, but
said, ` I have made careful examination, but there is no functional
cause.With you I agree that there has been much blood lost, it has been
but is not. But the conditions of her are in no way anemic. I have asked
her to send me her maid, that I may ask just one or two questions, that
so I may not chance to miss nothing. I know well what she will say. And
yet there is cause. There is always cause for everything. I must go back
home and think. You must send me the telegram every day,and if there be
cause I shall come again. The disease, for not to be well is a disease,
interest me, and the sweet, young dear, she interest me too. She charm
me, and for her, if not for you or disease, I come.'

"As I tell you, he would not say a word more, even when we were alone.
And so now, Art, you know all I know. I shall keep stern watch.I trust
your poor father is rallying. It must be a terrible thing to you,my dear
old fellow, to be placed in such a position between two people who are
both so dear to you. I know your idea of duty to your father, and you
are right to stick to it. But if need be, I shall send you word to come
at once to Lucy, so do not be over-anxious unless you hear from me."


 DR. SEWARD'S DIARY


 4 September.--Zoophagous patient still keeps up our interest in him. He
had only one outburst and that was yes- terday at an unusual time. Just
before the stroke of noon he began to grow restless. The attendant knew
the symptoms, and at once summoned aid. Fortunately the men came at a
run, and were just in time,for at the stroke of noon he became so
violent that it took all their strength to hold him.In about five
minutes, however,he began to get more quiet,and finally sank into a sort
of melancholy,in which state he has remain- ed up to now. The attendant
tells me that his screams whilst in the paroxysm were really appalling.
I found my hands full when I got in, attending to some of the other
patients who were frightened by him. Indeed, I can quite understand the
effect, for the sounds disturbed even me, though I was some distance
away.It is now after the dinner hour of the asylum, and as yet my
patient sits in a corner brooding,with a dull, sullen, woe-begone look
in his face, which seems rather to indicate than to show something
directly. I cannot quite understand it.


Later.--Another change in my patient. At five o'clock I looked in on
him, and found him seemingly as happy and contented as he used to be. He
was catching flies and eating them,and was keeping note of his capture
by making nailmarks on the edge of the door between the ridges of
padding. When he saw me, he came over and apologized for his bad
conduct, and asked me in a very humble, cringing way to be led back to
his own room, and to have his notebook again.I thought it well to humour
him,so he is back in his room with the window open. He has the sugar of
his tea spread out on the window sill, and is reaping quite a harvest of
flies. He is not now eating them, but putting them into a box, as of
old, and is already examining the corners of his room to find a spider.I
tried to get him to talk about the past few days, for any clue to his
thoughts would be of immense help to me, but he would not rise. For a
moment or two he looked very sad, and said in a sort of far away voice,
as though saying it rather to himself than to me.

"All over! All over! He has deserted me. No hope for me now unless I do
it myself!" Then suddenly turning to me in a resolute way, he
said,"Doctor,won't you be very good to me and let me have a little more
sugar? I think it would be very good for me."

"And the flies?" I said.

"Yes! The flies like it, too, and I like the flies, therefore I like
it."And there are people who know so little as to think that madmen do
not argue.I procured him a double supply, and left him as happy a man
as,I suppose, any in the world. I wish I could fathom his mind.


Midnight.--Another change in him.I had been to see Miss Westenra, whom I
found much better, and had just returned, and was standing at our own
gate looking at the sunset, when once more I heard him yelling.As his
room is on this side of the house, I could hear it better than in the
morning. It was a shock to me to turn from the wonderful smoky beauty of
a sunset over London, with its lurid lights and inky shadows and all the
marvellous tints that come on foul clouds even as on foul water,and to
realize all the grim sternness of my own cold stone building, with its
wealth of breathing misery, and my own desolate heart to endure it all.
I reached him just as the sun was going down, and from his window saw
the red disc sink. As it sank he became less and less frenzied, and just
as it dipped he slid from the hands that held him, an inert mass, on the
floor. It is wonderful, however, what intellectual recuperative power
lunatics have, for within a few minutes he stood up quite calmly and
looked around him. I signalled to the attendants not to hold him, for I
was anxious to see what he would do. He went straight over to the window
and brushed out the crumbs of sugar. Then he took his fly box, and
emptied it outside, and threw away the box. Then he shut the window, and
crossing over, sat down on his bed.All this surprised me, so I asked
him,"Are you going to keep flies any more?"

"No," said he. "I am sick of all that rubbish!" He certainly is a
wonderfully interesting study. I wish I could get some glimpse of his
mind or of the cause of his sudden passion. Stop. There may be a clue
after all, if we can find why today his paroxysms came on at high noon
and at sunset. Can it be that there is a malign influence of the sun at
periods which affects certain natures, as at times the moon does others?
We shall see.

 TELEGRAM. SEWARD, LONDON, TO VAN HELSING, AMSTERDAM


"4 September.--Patient still better today."

 TELEGRAM, SEWARD, LONDON, TO VAN HELSING, AMSTERDAM


"5 September.--Patient greatly improved. Good appetite, sleeps
naturally, good spirits, color coming back."

 TELEGRAM, SEWARD, LONDON, TO VAN HELSING, AMSTERDAM


"6 September.--Terrible change for the worse. Come at once. Do not lose
an hour. I hold over telegram to Holm- wood till have seen you."


CHAPTER 10


 LETTER, DR. SEWARD TO HON. ARTHUR HOLMWOOD


 6 September

"My dear Art,

"My news today is not so good. Lucy this morning had gone back a bit.
There is, however, one good thing which has arisen from it. Mrs.
Westenra was naturally anxious concern- ing Lucy, and has consulted me
professionally about her. I took advantage of the opportunity, and told
her that my old master, Van Helsing, the great specialist,was coming to
stay with me, and that I would put her in his charge conjointly with
myself. So now we can come and go without alarming her unduly, for a
shock to her would mean sudden death,and this, in Lucy's weak condition,
might be disastrous to her. We are hedged in with difficulties, all of
us, my poor fellow, but, please God, we shall come through them all
right.If any need I shall write, so that, if you do not hear from me,
take it for granted that I am simply waiting for news, In haste,

 "Yours ever,"

 John Seward

 DR. SEWARD'S DIARY


7 September.--The first thing Van Helsing said to me when we met at
Liverpool Street was, "Have you said anything to our young friend, to
lover of her?"

"No," I said. "I waited till I had seen you, as I said in my telegram. I
wrote him a letter simply telling him that you were coming,as Miss
Westenra was not so well, and that I should let him know if need be."

"Right, my friend," he said. "Quite right! Better he not know as yet.
Perhaps he will never know. I pray so, but if it be needed, then he
shall know all. And, my good friend John, let me caution you. You deal
with the madmen. All men are mad in some way or the other, and inasmuch
as you deal discreetly with your madmen, so deal with God's madmen too,
the rest of the world. You tell not your madmen what you do nor why you
do it. You tell them not what you think. So you shall keep knowledge in
its place, where it may rest, where it may gather its kind around it and
breed. You and I shall keep as yet what we know here, and here." He
touched me on the heart and on the forehead, and then touched him- self
the same way. "I have for myself thoughts at the pre- sent. Later I
shall unfold to you."

"Why not now?" I asked. "It may do some good. We may arrive at some
decision."He looked at me and said,"My friend John, when the corn is
grown, even before it has ripened, while the milk of its mother earth is
in him, and the sun- shine has not yet begun to paint him with his gold,
the hus- bandman he pull the ear and rub him between his rough hands,
and blow away the green chaff, and say to you, 'Look! He's good corn, he
will make a good crop when the time comes.' "

I did not see the application and told him so. For reply he reached over
and took my ear in his hand and pulled it playfully, as he used long ago
to do at lectures,and said, "The good husbandman tell you so then
because he knows, but not till then. But you do not find the good
husbandman dig up his planted corn to see if he grow. That is for the
children who play at husbandry, and not for those who take it as of the
work of their life. See you now, friend John? I have sown my corn, and
Nature has her work to do in making it sprout, if he sprout at all,
there's some promise, and I wait till the ear begins to swell." He broke
off, for he evidently saw that I understood. Then he went on gravely,
"You were always a careful student, and your case book was ever more
full than the rest. And I trust that good habit have not fail. Remember,
my friend, that knowledge is stronger than memory, and we should not
trust the weaker. Even if you have not kept the good practice, let me
tell you that this case of our dear miss is one that may be, mind, I say
may be, of such interest to us and others that all the rest may not make
him kick the beam, as your people say. Take then good note of it.
Nothing is too small. I counsel you, put down in record even your doubts
and surmises. Here- after it may be of interest to you to see how true
you guess. We learn from failure, not from success!"

When I described Lucy's symptoms, the same as before, but infinitely
more marked, he looked very grave, but said nothing. He took with him a
bag in which were many instru- ments and drugs, "the ghastly
paraphernalia of our bene- ficial trade," as he once called, in one of
his lectures, the equipment of a professor of the healing craft.

When we were shown in, Mrs. Westenra met us. She was alarmed, but not
nearly so much as I expected to find her. Nature in one of her
beneficient moods has ordained that even death has some antidote to its
own terrors. Here, in a case where any shock may prove fatal,matters are
so order- ed that, from some cause or other, the things not personal,
even the terrible change in her daughter to whom she is so attached, do
not seem to reach her. It is something like the way dame Nature gathers
round a foreign body an enve- lope of some insensitive tissue which can
protect from evil that which it would otherwise harm by contact. If this
be an ordered selfishness, then we should pause before we con- demn any
one for the vice of egoism,for there may be deeper root for its causes
than we have knowledge of.

I used my knowledge of this phase of spiritual patho- logy, and set down
a rule that she should not be present with Lucy, or think of her illness
more than was absolutely required. She assented readily, so readily that
I saw again the hand of Nature fighting for life.Van Helsing and I were
shown up to Lucy's room. If I was shocked when I saw her yesterday, I
was horrified when I saw her today.

She was ghastly, chalkily pale. The red seemed to have gone even from
her lips and gums, and the bones of her face stood out prominently. Her
breathing was painful to see or hear. Van Helsing's face grew set as
marble, and his eye- brows converged till they almost touched over his
nose.Lucy lay motionless, and did not seem to have strength to speak, so
for a while we were all silent. Then Van Helsing beckon- ed to me, and
we went gently out of the room. The instant we had closed the door he
stepped quickly along the passage to the next door, which was open. Then
he pulled me quickly in with him and closed the door. "My god!" he said.
"This is dreadful. There is not time to be lost. She will die for sheer
want of blood to keep the heart's action as it should be. There must be
a transfusion of blood at once. Is it you or me?"

"I am younger and stronger, Professor. It must be me."

"Then get ready at once. I will bring up my bag. I am prepared."

I went downstairs with him, and as we were going there was a knock at
the hall door. When we reached the hall, the maid had just opened the
door, and Arthur was stepping quickly in. He rushed up to me, saying in
an eager whisper,

"Jack, I was so anxious. I read between the lines of your letter, and
have been in an agony. The dad was better, so I ran down here to see for
myself. Is not that gentleman Dr.Van Helsing? I am so thankful to you,
sir, for coming."

When first the Professor's eye had lit upon him,he had been angry at his
interruption at such a time, but now, as he took in his stalwart
proportions and recognized the strong young manhood which seemed to
emanate from him, his eyes gleamed. Without a pause he said to him as he
held out his hand,

"Sir, you have come in time. You are the lover of our dear miss. She is
bad, very, very bad. Nay, my child, do not go like that."For he suddenly
grew pale and sat down in a chair almost fainting. "You are to help her.
You can do more than any that live,and your courage is your best help."

"What can I do?" asked Arthur hoarsely. "Tell me, and I shall do it. My
life is hers' and I would give the last drop of blood in my body for
her."

The Professor has a strongly humorous side,and I could from old
knowledge detect a trace of its origin in his answer.

"My young sir, I do not ask so much as that, not the last!"

"What shall I do?" There was fire in his eyes, and his open nostrils
quivered with intent. Van Helsing slapped him on the shoulder.

"Come!" he said. "You are a man, and it is a man we want. You are better
than me, better than my friend John." Arthur looked bewildered, and the
Professor went on by ex- plaining in a kindly way.

"Young miss is bad, very bad. She wants blood, and blood she must have
or die. My friend John and I have con- sulted,and we are about to
perform what we call transfusion of blood, to transfer from full veins
of one to the empty veins which pine for him. John was to give his
blood, as he is the more young and strong than me."--Here Arthur took my
hand and wrung it hard in silence.--"But now you are here, you are more
good than us, old or young, who toil much in the world of thought. Our
nerves are not so calm and our blood so bright than yours!"

Arthur turned to him and said, "If you only knew how gladly I would die
for her you would understand . . ." He stopped with a sort of choke in
his voice.

"Good boy!" said Van Helsing. "In the not-so-far-off you will be happy
that you have done all for her you love. Come now and be silent. You
shall kiss her once before it is done, but then you must go, and you
must leave at my sign. Say no word to Madame. You know how it is with
her. There must be no shock, any knowledge of this would be one. Come!"

We all went up to Lucy's room. Arthur by direction re- mained outside.
Lucy turned her head and looked at us, but said nothing. She was not
asleep, but she was simply too weak to make the effort.Her eyes spoke to
us, that was all.

Van Helsing took some things from his bag and laid them on a little
table out of sight. Then he mixed a nar- cotic, and coming over to the
bed, said cheerily, "Now, little miss, here is your medicine. Drink it
off, like a good child. See, I lift you so that to swallow is easy.
Yes." She had made the effort with success.

It astonished me how long the drug took to act. This, in fact, marked
the extent of her weakness. The time seemed endless until sleep began to
flicker in her eyelids. At last, however, the narcotic began to manifest
its potency, and she fell into a deep sleep. When the Professor was sat-
isfied, he called Arthur into the room, and bade him strip off his coat.
Then he added, "You may take that one little kiss whiles I bring over
the table. Friend John, help to me!" So neither of us looked whilst he
bent over her.

Van Helsing, turning to me, said, "He is so young and strong, and of
blood so pure that we need not defibrinate it."

Then with swiftness, but with absolute method, Van Hel- sing performed
the operation. As the transfusion went on, something like life seemed to
come back to poor Lucy's cheeks, and through Arthur's growing pallor the
joy of his face seemed absolutely to shine. After a bit I began to grow
anxious, for the loss of blood was telling on Arthur, strong man as he
was. It gave me an idea of what a terrible strain Lucy's system must
have undergone that what weakened Arthur only partially restored her.

But the Professor's face was set,and he stood watch in hand, and with
his eyes fixed now on the patient and now on Arthur. I could hear my own
heart beat. Presently, he said in a soft voice, "Do not stir an instant.
It is enough. You attend him. I will look to her."

When all was over,I could see how much Arthur was weak- ened. I dressed
the wound and took his arm to bring him away, when Van Helsing spoke
without turning round, the man seems to have eyes in the back of his
head,"The brave lover, I think, deserve another kiss, which he shall
have present- ly." And as he had now finished his operation, he adjusted
the pillow to the patient's head. As he did so the narrow black velvet
band which she seems always to wear round her throat, buckled with an
old diamond buckle which her lover had given her, was dragged a little
up, and showed a red mark on her throat.

Arthur did not notice it, but I could hear the deep hiss of indrawn
breath which is one of Van Helsing's ways of betraying emotion. He said
nothing at the moment, but turned to me, saying, "Now take down our
brave young lover, give him of the port wine, and let him lie down a
while. He must then go home and rest,sleep much and eat much, that he
may be recruited of what he has so given to his love. He must not stay
here. Hold a moment! I may take it, sir, that you are anxious of result.
Then bring it with you, that in all ways the operation is successful.
You have saved her life this time, and you can go home and rest easy in
mind that all that can be is. I shall tell her all when she is well. She
shall love you none the less for what you have done. Goodbye."

When Arthur had gone I went back to the room. Lucy was sleeping gently,
but her breathing was stronger. I could see the counterpane move as her
breast heaved. By the bedside sat Van Helsing, looking at her intently.
The velvet band again covered the red mark. I asked the Pro- fessor in a
whisper, "What do you make of that mark on her throat?"

"What do you make of it?"

"I have not examined it yet," I answered, and then and there proceeded
to loose the band. Just over the external jugular vein there were two
punctures, not large, but not wholesome looking. There was no sign of
disease, but the edges were white and worn looking,as if by some
trituration. It at once occurred to me that that this wound, or whatever
it was, might be the means of that manifest loss of blood. But I
abandoned the idea as soon as it formed, for such a thing could not be.
The whole bed would have been drenched to a scarlet with the blood which
the girl must have lost to leave such a pallor as she had before the
transfusion.

"Well?" said Van Helsing.

"Well," said I. "I can make nothing of it."

The Professor stood up. "I must go back to Amsterdam tonight," he said
"There are books and things there which I want. You must remain here all
night, and you must not let your sight pass from her."

"Shall I have a nurse?" I asked.

"We are the best nurses, you and I. You keep watch all night. See that
she is well fed, and that nothing disturbs her.You must not sleep all
the night.Later on we can sleep, you and I. I shall be back as soon as
possible. And then we may begin."

"May begin?" I said. "What on earth do you mean?"

"We shall see!" he answered, as he hurried out.He came back a moment
later and put his head inside the door and said with a warning finger
held up, "Remember, she is your charge. If you leave her, and harm
befall, you shall not sleep easy hereafter!"


DR. SEWARD'S DIARY--CONTINUED


8 September.--I sat up all night with Lucy. The opiate worked itself off
towards dusk, and she waked naturally.She looked a different being from
what she had been before the operation.Her spirits even were good, and
she was full of a happy vivacity, but I could see evidences of the
absolute prostration which she had undergone. When I told Mrs.West- enra
that Dr. Van Helsing had directed that I should sit up with her, she
almost pooh-poohed the idea, pointing out her daughter's renewed
strength and excellent spirits. I was firm, however, and made
preparations for my long vigil.When her maid had prepared her for the
night I came in,having in the meantime had supper, and took a seat by
the bedside.

She did not in any way make objection,but looked at me gratefully
whenever I caught her eye.After a long spell she seemed sinking off to
sleep, but with an effort seemed to pull herself together and shook it
off.It was apparent that she did not want to sleep, so I tackled the
subject at once.

"You do not want to sleep?"

"No. I am afraid."

"Afraid to go to sleep! Why so? It is the boon we all crave for."

"Ah,not if you were like me, if sleep was to you a pre- sage of horror!"

"A presage of horror! What on earth do you mean?"

"I don't know. Oh, I don't know. And that is what is so terrible. All
this weakness comes to me in sleep, until I dread the very thought."

"But, my dear girl, you may sleep tonight. I am here watching you, and I
can promise that nothing will happen."

"Ah, I can trust you!" she said.

I seized the opportunity, and said, "I promise that if I see any
evidence of bad dreams I will wake you at once."

"You will? Oh, will you really? How good you are to me. Then I will
sleep!" And almost at the word she gave a deep sigh of relief, and sank
back, asleep.

All night long I watched by her.She never stirred, but slept on and on
in a deep, tranquil, life-giving, health- giving sleep. Her lips were
slightly parted, and her breast rose and fell with the regularity of a
pendulum. There was a smile on her face, and it was evident that no bad
dreams had come to disturb her peace of mind.

In the early morning her maid came, and I left her in her care and took
myself back home, for I was anxious about many things. I sent a short
wire to Van Helsing and to Arthur, telling them of the excellent result
of the opera- tion. My own work, with its manifold arrears, took me all
day to clear off. It was dark when I was able to inquire about my
zoophagous patient. The report was good. He had been quite quiet for the
past day and night. A telegram came from Van Helsing at Amsterdam whilst
I was at dinner, suggesting that I should be at Hillingham tonight, as
it might be well to be at hand, and stating that he was leav- ing by the
night mail and would join me early in the morn- ing.


9 September.--I was pretty tired and worn out when I got to Hillingham.
For two nights I had hardly had a wink of sleep, and my brain was
beginning to feel that numbness which marks cerebral exhaustion. Lucy
was up and in cheer- ful spirits. When she shook hands with me she
looked sharp- ly in my face and said,

"No sitting up tonight for you. You are worn out. I am quite well
again.Indeed, I am, and if there is to be any sitting up, it is I who
will sit up with you."

I would not argue the point,but went and had my supper. Lucy came with
me, and, enlivened by her charming presence, I made an excellent
meal,and had a couple of glasses of the more than excellent port. Then
Lucy took me upstairs, and showed me a room next her own,where a cozy
fire was burning.

"Now," she said. "You must stay here. I shall leave this door open and
my door too. You can lie on the sofa for I know that nothing would
induce any of you doctors to go to bed whilst there is a patient above
the horizon. If I want anything I shall call out, and you can come to me
at once."

I could not but acquiesce, for I was dog tired, and could not have sat
up had I tried. So, on her renewing her promise to call me if she should
want anything,I lay on the sofa, and forgot all about everything.

LUCY WESTENRA'S DIARY


9 September.--I feel so happy tonight. I have been so miserably weak,
that to be able to think and move about is like feeling sunshine after a
long spell of east wind out of a steel sky. Somehow Arthur feels very,
very close to me. I seem to feel his presence warm about me. I suppose
it is that sickness and weakness are selfish things and turn our inner
eyes and sympathy on ourselves, whilst health and strength give love
rein, and in thought and feeling he can wander where he wills. I know
where my thoughts are. If only Arthur knew! My dear, my dear, your ears
must tingle as you sleep, as mine do waking. Oh, the blissful rest of
last night! How I slept, with that dear, good Dr. Seward watching me.
And tonight I shall not fear to sleep, since he is close at hand and
within call. Thank everybody for being so good to me. Thank God!
Goodnight Arthur.

 DR. SEWARD'S DIARY


10 September.--I was conscious of the Professor's hand on my head, and
started awake all in a second. That is one of the things that we learn
in an asylum, at any rate.

"And how is our patient?"

"Well, when I left her, or rather when she left me," I answered.

"Come, let us see," he said. And together we went into the room.

The blind was down, and I went over to raise it gently, whilst Van
Helsing stepped, with his soft, cat-like tread, over to the bed.

As I raised the blind, and the morning sunlight flood- ed the room,I
heard the Professor's low hiss of inspiration, and knowing its rarity, a
deadly fear shot through my heart. As I passed over he moved back, and
his exclamation of horror, "Gott in Himmel!" needed no enforcement from
his agonized face. He raised his hand and pointed to the bed, and his
iron face was drawn and ashen white.I felt my knees begin to tremble.

There on the bed, seemingly in a swoon, lay poor Lucy, more horribly
white and wan-looking than ever. Even the lips were white, and the gums
seemed to have shrunken back from the teeth,as we sometimes see in a
corpse after a pro- longed illness.

Van Helsing raised his foot to stamp in anger, but the instinct of his
life and all the long years of habit stood to him, and he put it down
again softly.

"Quick!" he said. "Bring the brandy."

I flew to the dining room, and returned with the de- canter. He wetted
the poor white lips with it, and together we rubbed palm and wrist and
heart. He felt her heart, and after a few moments of agonizing suspense
said,

"It is not too late. It beats, though but feebly. All our work is
undone. We must begin again. There is no young Arthur here now. I have
to call on you yourself this time, friend John." As he spoke, he was
dipping into his bag, and producing the instruments of transfusion.I had
taken off my coat and rolled up my shirt sleeve.There was no possibility
of an opiate just at present, and no need of one. and so, without a
moment's delay, we began the operation.

After a time, it did not seem a short time either, for the draining away
of one's blood, no matter how willingly it be given, is a terrible
feeling, Van Helsing held up a warning finger. "Do not stir," he said.
"But I fear that with growing strength she may wake, and that would make
danger, oh, so much danger. But I shall precaution take. I shall give
hypodermic injection of morphia." He proceeded then, swiftly and deftly,
to carry out his intent.

The effect on Lucy was not bad, for the faint seemed to merge subtly
into the narcotic sleep. It was with a feeling of personal pride that I
could see a faint tinge of color steal back into the pallid cheeks and
lips. No man knows, till he experiences it, what it is to feel his own
lifeblood drawn away into the veins of the woman he loves.

The Professor watched me critically. "That will do," he said. "Already?"
I remonstrated. "You took a great deal more from Art." To which he
smiled a sad sort of smile as he replied,

"He is her lover, her fiance. You have work, much work to do for her and
for others, and the present will suffice.

When we stopped the operation, he attended to Lucy, whilst I applied
digital pressure to my own incision.I laid down, while I waited his
leisure to attend to me,for I felt faint and a little sick.By and by he
bound up my wound, and sent me downstairs to get a glass of wine for
myself. As I was leaving the room, he came after me, and half whispered.

"Mind, nothing must be said of this.If our young lover should turn up
unexpected, as before, no word to him. It would at once frighten him and
enjealous him, too. There must be none. So!"

When I came back he looked at me carefully, and then said, "You are not
much the worse. Go into the room, and lie on your sofa, and rest awhile,
then have much breakfast and come here to me."

I followed out his orders, for I knew how right and wise they were. I
had done my part, and now my next duty was to keep up my strength. I
felt very weak, and in the weakness lost something of the amazement at
what had occur- red. I fell asleep on the sofa, however, wondering over
and over again how Lucy had made such a retrograde movement, and how she
could have been drained of so much blood with no sign any where to show
for it. I think I must have con- tinued my wonder in my dreams, for,
sleeping and waking my thoughts always came back to the little punctures
in her throat and the ragged, exhausted appearance of their edges, tiny
though they were.

Lucy slept well into the day,and when she woke she was fairly well and
strong, though not nearly so much so as the day before. When Van Helsing
had seen her, he went out for a walk, leaving me in charge, with strict
injunctions that I was not to leave her for a moment. I could hear his
voice in the hall, asking the way to the nearest telegraph office.

Lucy chatted with me freely, and seemed quite uncon- scious that
anything had happened. I tried to keep her amused and interested. When
her mother came up to see her, she did not seem to notice any change
whatever, but said to me gratefully,

"We owe you so much, Dr.Seward, for all you have done, but you really
must now take care not to overwork yourself. You are looking pale
yourself. You want a wife to nurse and look after you a bit, that you
do!" As she spoke, Lucy turned crimson,though it was only momentarily,
for her poor wasted veins could not stand for long an unwonted drain to
the head. The reaction came in excessive pallor as she turned imploring
eyes on me. I smiled and nodded, and laid my finger on my lips. With a
sigh, she sank back amid her pillows.
 Van Helsing returned in a couple of hours, and present- ly said to me.
"Now you go home, and eat much and drink enough. Make yourself strong. I
stay here tonight, and I shall sit up with little miss myself. You and I
must watch the case, and we must have none other to know. I have grave
reasons. No, do not ask the. Think what you will. Do not fear to think
even the most not-improbable. Goodnight."

In the hall two of the maids came to me, and asked if they or either of
them might not sit up with Miss Lucy.They implored me to let them, and
when I said it was Dr. Van Helsing's wish that either he or I should sit
up,they asked me quite piteously to intercede with the`foreign
gentleman'. I was much touched by their kindness. Perhaps it is because
I am weak at present, and perhaps because it was on Lucy's account, that
their devotion was manifested. For over and over again have I seen
similar instances of woman's kind- ness. I got back here in time for a
late dinner, went my rounds,all well, and set this down whilst waiting
for sleep. It is coming.


11 September.--This afternoon I went over to Hilling- ham. Found Van
Helsing in excellent spirits, and Lucy much better. Shortly after I had
arrived, a big parcel from abroad came for the Professor. He opened it
with much im- pressment,assumed, of course, and showed a great bundle of
white flowers.

"These are for you, Miss Lucy," he said.

"For me? Oh, Dr. Van Helsing!"

"Yes, my dear, but not for you to play with. These are medicines." Here
Lucy made a wry face. "Nay, but they are not to take in a decoction or
in nauseous form, so you need not snub that so charming nose, or I shall
point out to my friend Arthur what woes he may have to endure in seeing
so much beauty that he so loves so much distort.Aha, my pretty miss,
that bring the so nice nose all straight again. This is medicinal, but
you do not know how. I put him in your window, I make pretty wreath, and
hang him round your neck, so you sleep well. Oh, yes! They, like the
lotus flower, make your trouble forgotten. It smell so like the waters
of Lethe,and of that fountain of youth that the Conquistadores sought
for in the Floridas, and find him all too late."

Whilst he was speaking, Lucy had been examining the flowers and smelling
them. Now she threw them down saying, with half laughter, and half
disgust,

"Oh, Professor, I believe you are only putting up a joke on me. Why,
these flowers are only common garlic."

To my surprise, Van Helsing rose up and said with all his sternness, his
iron jaw set and his bushy eyebrows meeting,

"No trifling with me! I never jest! There is grim purpose in what I do,
and I warn you that you do not thwart me. Take care, for the sake of
others if not for your own." Then seeing poor Lucy scared, as she might
well be, he went on more gently, "Oh, little miss, my dear, do not fear
me. I only do for your good, but there is much virtue to you in those so
common flowers. See, I place them myself in your room. I make myself the
wreath that you are to wear. But hush! No telling to others that make so
inquisitive questions. We must obey, and silence is a part of obed-
ience, and obedience is to bring you strong and well into loving arms
that wait for you. Now sit still a while. Come with me, friend John, and
you shall help me deck the room with my garlic, which is all the war
from Haarlem, where my friend Vanderpool raise herb in his glass houses
all the year. I had to telegraph yesterday, or they would not have been
here."

We went into the room, taking the flowers with us. The Professor's
actions were certainly odd and not to be found in any pharmacopeia that
I ever heard of. First he fasten- ed up the windows and latched them
securely. Next, taking a handful of the flowers,he rubbed them all over
the sashes, as though to ensure that every whiff of air that might get
in would be laden with the garlic smell. Then with the wisp he rubbed
all over the jamb of the door, above, below, and at each side, and round
the fireplace in the same way. It all seemed grotesque to me, and
presently I said, "Well, Professor, I know you always have a reason for
what you do, but this certainly puzzles me. It is well we have no scep-
tic here, or he would say that you were working some spell to keep out
an evil spirit."

"Perhaps I am!" He answered quietly as he began to make the wreath which
Lucy was to wear round her neck.

We then waited whilst Lucy made her toilet for the night, and when she
was in bed he came and himself fixed the wreath of garlic round her
neck. The last words he said to her were,

"Take care you do not disturb it, and even if the room feel close, do
not tonight open the window or the door."

"I promise," said Lucy. "And thank you both a thousand times for all
your kindness to me! Oh, what have I done to be blessed with such
friends?"

As we left the house in my fly, which was waiting, Van Helsing
said,"Tonight I can sleep in peace,and sleep I want, two nights of
travel, much reading in the day between, and much anxiety on the day to
follow, and a night to sit up, without to wink. Tomorrow in the morning
early you call for me, and we come together to see our pretty miss, so
much more strong for my `spell' which I have work. Ho, ho!"

He seemed so confident that I, remembering my own con- fidence two
nights before and with the baneful result, felt awe and vague terror. It
must have been my weakness that made me hesitate to tell it to my
friend, but I felt it all the more, like unshed tears.


CHAPTER 11


   LUCY WESTENRA'S DIARY


12 September.--How good they all are to me. I quite love that dear Dr.
Van Helsing. I wonder why he was so anxious about these flowers. He
positively frightened me, he was so fierce. And yet he must have been
right, for I feel comfort from them already. Somehow, I do not dread
being alone tonight, and I can go to sleep without fear. I shall not
mind any flapping outside the window. Oh, the terrible struggle that I
have had against sleep so often of late, the pain of sleeplessness, or
the pain of the fear of sleep, and with such unknown horrors as it has
for me! How blessed are some people, whose lives have no fears,no
dreads, to whom sleep is a blessing that comes nightly, and brings
nothing but sweet dreams.Well, here I am tonight, hoping for sleep, and
lying like Ophelia in the play,with`virgin crants and maiden
strewments.' I never liked garlic before, but to- night it is
delightful! There is peace in its smell. I feel sleep coming already.
Goodnight, everybody.

DR. SEWARD'S DIARY


13 September.--Called at the Berkeley and found Van Helsing, as usual,
up to time. The carriage ordered from the hotel was waiting. The
Professor took his bag, which he always brings with him now.

Let all be put down exactly. Van Helsing and I arrived at Hillingham at
eight o'clock. It was a lovely morning. The bright sunshine and all the
fresh feeling of early autumn seemed like the completion of nature's
annual work. The leaves were turning to all kinds of beautiful
colors,but had not yet begun to drop from the trees. When we entered we
met Mrs. Westenra coming out of the morning room. She is always an early
riser. She greeted us warmly and said,

"You will be glad to know that Lucy is better. The dear child is still
asleep. I looked into her room and saw her, but did not go in, lest I
should disturb her." The Professor smiled, and looked quite jubilant. He
rubbed his hands together, and said, "Aha! I thought I had diagnosed the
case. My treatment is working."

To which she replied, "You must not take all the credit to yourself,
doctor. Lucy's state this morning is due in part to me."

"How do you mean, ma'am?" asked the Professor.

"Well, I was anxious about the dear child in the night, and went into
her room. She was sleeping soundly, so soundly that even my coming did
not wake her. But the room was aw- fully stuffy. There were a lot of
those horrible, strong- smelling flowers about everywhere, and she had
actually a bunch of them round her neck. I feared that the heavy odor
would be too much for the dear child in her weak state, so I took them
all away and opened a bit of the window to let in a little fresh air.
You will be pleased with her, I am sure."

She moved off into her boudoir,where she usually break- fasted early. As
she had spoken, I watched the Professor's face, and saw it turn ashen
gray. He had been able to retain his self-command whilst the poor lady
was present, for he knew her state and how mischievous a shock would be.
He actually smiled on her as he held open the door for her to pass into
her room. But the instant she had disappeared he pulled me, suddenly and
forcibly, into the dining room and closed the door.

Then, for the first time in my life, I saw Van Helsing break down. He
raised his hands over his head in a sort of mute despair, and then beat
his palms together in a helpless way. Finally he sat down on a chair,
and putting his hands before his face,began to sob, with loud, dry sobs
that seem- ed to come from the very racking of his heart.

Then he raised his arms again, as though appealing to the whole
universe. "God! God! God!" he said. "What have we done, what has this
poor thing done, that we are so sore beset? Is there fate amongst us
still, send down from the pagan world of old, that such things must be,
and in such way? This poor mother, all unknowing, and all for the best
as she think, does such thing as lose her daughter body and soul, and we
must not tell her, we must not even warn her, or she die, then both die.
Oh, how we are beset! How are all the powers of the devils against us!"

Suddenly he jumped to his feet. "Come," he said."come, we must see and
act. Devils or no devils, or all the devils at once, it matters not. We
must fight him all the same." He went to the hall door for his bag,and
together we went up to Lucy's room.

Once again I drew up the blind, whilst Van Helsing went towards the bed.
This time he did not start as he looked on the poor face with the same
awful, waxen pallor as before.He wore a look of stern sadness and
infinite pity.

"As I expected," he murmured, with that hissing inspir- ation of his
which meant so much. Without a word he went and locked the door, and
then began to set out on the little table the instruments for yet
another operation of transfu- sion of blood. I had long ago recognized
the necessity, and begun to take off my coat, but he stopped me with a
warning hand. "No!" he said. "Today you must operate. I shall pro- vide.
You are weakened already." As he spoke he took off his coat and rolled
up his shirtsleeve.

Again the operation. Again the narcotic. Again some return of color to
the ashy cheeks, and the regular breath- ing of healthy sleep. This time
I watched whilst Van Helsing recruited himself and rested.

Presently he took an opportunity of telling Mrs. West- enra that she
must not remove anything from Lucy's room without consulting him. That
the flowers were of medicinal value, and that the breathing of their
odor was a part of the system of cure. Then he took over the care of the
case himself, saying that he would watch this night and the next, and
would send me word when to come.

After another hour Lucy waked from her sleep, fresh and bright and
seemingly not much the worse for her ter- rible ordeal.

What does it all mean? I am beginning to wonder if my long habit of life
amongst the insane is beginning to tell upon my own brain.

 LUCY WESTENRA'S DIARY


17 September.--Four days and nights of peace. I am getting so strong
again that I hardly know myself. It is as if I had passed through some
long nightmare, and had just awakened to see the beautiful sunshine and
feel the fresh air of the morning around me. I have a dim half remem-
brance of long, anxious times of waiting and fearing, dark- ness in
which there was not even the pain of hope to make present distress more
poignant. And then long spells of oblivion, and the rising back to life
as a diver coming up through a great press of water. Since, however, Dr.
Van Helsing has been with me, all this bad dreaming seems to have passed
away. The noises that used to frighten me out of my wits, the flapping
against the windows, the distant voices which seemed so close to me, the
harsh sounds that came from I know not where and commanded me to do I
know not what, have all ceased. I go to bed now without any fear of
sleep. I do not even try to keep awake. I have grown quite fond of the
garlic, and a boxful arrives for me every day from Haarlem. Tonight Dr.
Van Helsing is going away, as he has to be for a day in Amsterdam. But I
need not be watched. I am well enough to be left alone.

Thank God for Mother's sake, and dear Arthur's, and for all our friends
who have been so kind! I shall not even feel the change, for last night
Dr.Van Helsing slept in his chair a lot of the time. I found him asleep
twice when I awoke. But I did not fear to go to sleep again, although
the boughs or bats or something flapped almost angrily against the
window panes.

 THE PALL MALL GAZETTE 18 September.

 THE ESCAPED WOLF
 PERILOUS ADVENTURE OF OUR INTERVIEWER

INTERVIEW WITH THE KEEPER IN THE ZOOLOGICAL GARDENS


After many inquiries and almost as many refusals, and perpetually using
the words `PALL MALL GAZETTE ' as a sort of talisman, I managed to find
the keeper of the section of the Zoological Gardens in which the wold
department is in- cluded. Thomas Bilder lives in one of the cottages in
the enclosure behind the elephant house, and was just sitting down to
his tea when I found him. Thomas and his wife are hospitable folk,
elderly, and without children, and if the specimen I enjoyed of their
hospitality be of the average kind, their lives must be pretty
comfortable. The keeper would not enter on what he called business until
the supper was over, and we were all satisfied. Then when the table was
cleared, and he had lit his pipe, he said,

"Now, Sir, you can go on and arsk me what you want. You'll excoose me
refoosin' to talk of perfeshunal subjucts afore meals. I gives the
wolves and the jackals and the hyenas in all our section their tea afore
I begins to arsk them questions."

"How do you mean, ask them questions?" I queried, wish- ful to get him
into a talkative humor.

" `Ittin' of them over the `ead with a pole is one way. Scratchin' of
their ears in another, when gents as is flush wants a bit of a show-orf
to their gals. I don't so much mind the fust, the `ittin of the pole
part afore I chucks in their dinner, but I waits till they've `ad their
sherry and kawffee,so to speak,afore I tries on with the ear scratchin'.
Mind you," he added philosophically, "there's a deal of the same nature
in us as in them theer animiles. Here's you a-comin' and arskin' of me
questions about my business, and I that grump-like that only for your
bloomin' `arf-quid I'd `a' seen you blowed fust `fore I'd answer. Not
even when you arsked me sarcastic like if I'd like you to arsk the
Superintendent if you might arsk me questions. Without offence did I
tell yer to go to `ell?"

"You did."

"An' when you said you'd report me for usin' obscene language that was
`ittin' me over the `ead. But the `arf- quid made that all right. I
weren't a-goin' to fight, so I waited for the food, and did with my `owl
as the wolves and lions and tigers does. But, lor' love yer `art, now
that the old `ooman has stuck a chunk of her tea-cake in me, an' rinsed
me out with her bloomin' old teapot,and I've lit hup, you may scratch my
ears for all you're worth, and won't even get a growl out of me. Drive
along with your questions. I know what yer a-comin' at, that `ere
escaped wolf."

"Exactly. I want you to give me your view of it. Just tell me how it
happened, and when I know the facts I'll get you to say what you
consider was the cause of it, and how you think the whole affair will
end."

"All right, guv'nor. This `ere is about the `ole story. That`ere wolf
what we called Bersicker was one of three gray ones that came from
Norway to Jamrach's, which we bought off him four years ago. He was a
nice well-behaved wolf, that never gave no trouble to talk of. I'm more
surprised at `im for wantin' to get out nor any other animile in the
place. But, there, you can't trust wolves no more nor women."

"Don't you mind him, Sir!" broke in Mrs. Tom, with a cheery laugh. "
`E's got mindin' the animiles so long that blest if he ain't like a old
wolf `isself! But there ain't no `arm in `im."

"Well, Sir, it was about two hours after feedin' yes- terday when I
first hear my disturbance. I was makin' up a litter in the monkey house
for a young puma which is ill. But when I heard the yelpin' and `owlin'
I kem away straight. There was Bersicker a-tearin' like a mad thing at
the bars as if he wanted to get out. There wasn't much people about that
day, and close at hand was only one man, a tall, thin chap, with a `ook
nose and a pointed beard, with a few white hairs runnin' through it. He
had a `ard, cold look and red eyes, and I took a sort of mislike to him,
for it seemed as if it was `im as they was hirritated at. He `ad white
kid gloves on `is `ands, and he pointed out the ani- miles to me and
says, `Keeper, these wolves seem upset at something.'

"`Maybe it's you,' says I, for I did not like the airs as he give
`isself. He didn't get angry, as I `oped he would, but he smiled a kind
of insolent smile, with a mouth full of white, sharp teeth. `Oh no, they
wouldn't like me,' `e says.

" `Ow yes, they would,' says I, a-imitatin'of him.`They always like a
bone or two to clean their teeth on about tea time, which you `as a
bagful.'

"Well, it was a odd thing, but when the animiles see us a-talkin' they
lay down,and when I went over to Bersicker he let me stroke his ears
same as ever.That there man kem over, and blessed but if he didn't put
in his hand and stroke the old wolf's ears too!

" `Tyke care,' says I. `Bersicker is quick.'

" `Never mind,' he says. I'm used to `em!'

" `Are you in the business yourself?"I says, tyking off my `at, for a
man what trades in wolves, anceterer,is a good friend to keepers.

" `Nom' says he, `not exactly in the business, but I `ave made pets of
several.' and with that he lifts his `at as perlite as a lord, and walks
away. Old Bersicker kep' a-lookin' arter `im till `e was out of sight,
and then went and lay down in a corner and wouldn't come hout the `ole
hevening. Well, larst night, so soon as the moon was hup, the wolves
here all began a-`owling. There warn't nothing for them to `owl at.
There warn't no one near, except some one that was evidently a-callin' a
dog somewheres out back of the gardings in the Park road. Once or twice
I went out to see that all was right, and it was, and then the `owling
stopped. Just before twelve o'clock I just took a look round afore
turnin' in, an', bust me, but when I kem oppo- site to old Bersicker's
cage I see the rails broken and twisted about and the cage empty. And
that's all I know for certing."

"Did any one else see anything?"

"One of our gard`ners was a-comin' `ome about that time from a `armony,
when he sees a big gray dog comin' out through the garding `edges.At
least, so he says, but I don't give much for it myself, for if he did `e
never said a word about it to his missis when `e got `ome, and it was
only af- ter the escape of the wolf was made known,and we had been up
all night a-huntin' of the Park for Bersicker,that he remem- bered
seein' anything. My own belief was that the `armony `ad got into his
`ead."

"Now, Mr. Bilder, can you account in any way for the escape of the
wolf?"

"Well, Sir,"he said, with a suspicious sort of modesty, "I think I can,
but I don't know as `ow you'd be satisfied with the theory."

"Certainly I shall. If a man like you, who knows the animals from
experience, can't hazard a good guess at any rate, who is even to try?"

"well then, Sir, I accounts for it this way. It seems to me that `ere
wolf escaped--simply because he wanted to get out."

From the hearty way that both Thomas and his wife laugh- ed at the joke
I could see that it had done service before, and that the whole
explanation was simply an elaborate sell. I couldn't cope in badinage
with the worthy Thomas, but I thought I knew a surer way to his heart,
so I said,"Now, Mr. Bilder, we'll consider that first half-sovereign
worked off, and this brother of his is waiting to be claimed when you've
told me what you think will happen."

"Right y`are, Sir," he said briskly. "Ye`ll excoose me, I know, for
a-chaffin' of ye, but the old woman her winked at me, which was as much
as telling me to go on."

"Well, I never!" said the old lady.

"My opinion is this. That `ere wolf is a`idin' of, somewheres. The
gard`ner wot didn't remember said he was a-gallopin' northward faster
than a horse could go, but I don't believe him, for, yer see, Sir,
wolves don't gallop no more nor dogs does, they not bein' built that
way. Wolves is fine things in a storybook, and I dessay when they gets
in packs and does be chivyin' somethin' that's more afeared than they is
they can make a devil of a noise and chop it up, whatever it is. But,
Lor' bless you, in real life a wolf is only a low creature, not half so
clever or bold as a good dog, and not half a quarter so much fight in
`im. This one ain't been used to fightin' or even to providin' for
hisself, and more like he's somewhere round the Park a'hidin' an'
a'shiverin' of, and if he thinks at all, wonderin' where he is to get
his breakfast from. Or maybe he's got down some area and is in a coal
cellar. My eye, won't some cook get a rum start when she sees his green
eyes a-shinin' at her out of the dark! If he can't get food he's bound
to look for it, and mayhap he may chance to light on a butcher's shop in
time. If he doesn't, and some nursemaid goes out walkin' or orf with a
soldier, leavin' of the hinfant in the perambulator--well, then I
shouldn't be surprised if the census is one babby the less. That's all."

I was handing him the half-sovereign, when something came bobbing up
against the window, and Mr. Bilder's face doubled its natural length
with surprise.

"God bless me!" he said. "If there ain't old Bersicker come back by
`isself!"

He went to the door and opened it, a most unnecessary proceeding it
seemed to me. I have always thought that a wild animal never looks so
well as when some obstacle of pronounced durability is between us. A
personal experience has intensified rather than diminished that idea.

After all, however, there is nothing like custom, for neither Bilder nor
his wife thought any more of the wolf than I should of a dog. The animal
itself was a peaceful and well-behaved as that father of all
picture-wolves, Red Riding Hood's quondam friend, whilst moving her
confidence in masquerade.

The whole scene was a unutterable mixture of comedy and pathos. The
wicked wolf that for a half a day had paralyzed London and set all the
children in town shivering in their shoes, was there in a sort of
penitent mood,and was received and petted like a sort of vulpine
prodigal son. Old Bilder examined him all over with most tender
solicitude, and when he had finished with his penitent said,

"There, I knew the poor old chap would get into some kind of trouble.
Didn't I say it all along? Here's his head all cut and full of broken
glass. `E's been a-gettin' over some bloomin' wall or other. It's a
shyme that people are allowed to top their walls with broken bottles.
This `ere's what comes of it. Come along, Bersicker."

He took the wolf and locked him up in a cage, with a piece of meat that
satisfied, in quantity at any rate, the elementary conditions of the
fatted calf, and went off to report.

I came off too,to report the only exclusive information that is given
today regarding the strange escapade at the Zoo.

 DR. SEWARD'S DIARY


17 September.--I was engaged after dinner in my study posting up my
books, which, through press of other work and the many visits to Lucy,
had fallen sadly into arrear. Sud- denly the door was burst open,and in
rushed my patient, with his face distorted with passion. I was
thunderstruck, for such a thing as a patient getting of his own accord
into the Superintendent's study is almost unknown.

Without an instant's notice he made straight at me. He had a dinner
knife in his hand,and as I saw he was dangerous, I tried to keep the
table between us. He was too quick and too strong for me,however, for
before I could get my balance he had struck at me and cut my left wrist
rather severely.

Before he could strike again, however,I got in my right hand and he was
sprawling on his back on the floor. My wrist bled freely, and quite a
little pool trickled on to the car- pet. I saw that my friend was not
intent on further effort, and occupied myself binding up my wrist,
keeping a wary eye on the prostrate figure all the time. When the
attendants rushed in, and we turned our attention to him, his employ-
ment positively sickened me. He was lying on his belly on the floor
licking up, like a dog, the blood which had fallen from my wounded
wrist. He was easily secured, and to my surprise, went with the
attendants quite placidly, simply repeating over and over again, "The
blood is the life! The blood is the life!"

I cannot afford to lose blood just at present. I have lost too much of
late for my physical good,and then the pro- longed strain of Lucy's
illness and its horrible phases is telling on me. I am over excited and
weary, and I need rest, rest, rest. Happily Van Helsing has not summoned
me, so I need not forego my sleep. Tonight I could not well do with- out
it.


 TELEGRAM, VAN HELSING, ANTWERP, TO SEWARD, CARFAX

(Sent to Carfax, Sussex, as no county given, delivered late by
twenty-two hours.)

17 September.--Do not fail to be at Hilllingham tonight. If not watching
all the time, frequently visit and see that flowers are as placed, very
important, do not fail. Shall be with you as soon as possible after
arrival.

 DR. SEWARD'S DIARY


18 September.--Just off train to London. The arrival of Van Helsing's
telegram filled me with dismay. A whole night lost, and I know by bitter
experience what may happen in a night. Of course it is possible that all
may be well, but what may have happened? Surely there is some horrible
doom hanging over us that every possible accident should thwart us in
all we try to do. I shall take this cylinder with me, and then I can
complete my entry on Lucy's phonograph.
 MEMORANDUM LEFT BY LUCY WESTENRA


17 September, Night.--I write this and leave it to be seen, so that no
one may by any chance get into trouble through me. This is an exact
record of what took place to- night. I feel I am dying of weakness, and
have barely strength to write, but it must be done if I die in the
doing.

I went to bed as usual, taking care that the flowers were placed as Dr.
Van Helsing directed, and soon fell asleep.

I was waked by the flapping at the window, which had begun after that
sleep-walking on the cliff at Whitby when Mina saved me, and which now I
know so well. I was not afraid, but I did wish that Dr. Seward was in
the next room, as Dr. Van Helsing said he would be, so that I might have
called him. I tried to sleep, but I could not. Then there came to me the
old fear of sleep, and I determined to keep awake. Perversely sleep
would try to come then when I did not want it. So, as I feared to be
alone, I opened my door and called out. "Is there anybody there?" There
was no answer. I was afraid to wake mother, and so closed my door again.
Then outside in the shrubbery I heard a sort of howl like a dog's, but
more fierce and deeper. I went to the win- dow and looked out, but could
see nothing, except a big bat, which had evidently been buffeting its
wings against the window. So I went back to bed again, but determined
not to go to sleep. Presently the door opened,and mother looked in.
Seeing by my moving that I was not asleep, she came in and sat by me.
She said to me even more sweetly and softly than her wont,

"I was uneasy about you, darling, and came in to see that you were all
right."

I feared she might catch cold sitting there, and asked her to come in
and sleep with me, so she came into bed, and lay down beside me. She did
not take off her dressing gown, for she said she would only stay a while
and then go back to her own bed. As she lay there in my arms, and I in
hers the flapping and buffeting came to the window again. She was
startled and a little frightened, and cried out, "What is that?"

I tried to pacify her, and at last succeeded, and she lay quiet. But I
could hear her poor dear heart still beat- ing terribly. After a while
there was the howl again out in the shrubbery, and shortly after there
was a crash at the window, and a lot of broken glass was hurled on the
floor. The window blind blew back with the wind that rushed in, and in
the aperture of the broken panes there was the head of a great, gaunt
gray wolf.

Mother cried out in a fright, and struggled up into a sitting posture,
and clutched wildly at anything that would help her. Amongst other
things, she clutched the wreath of flowers that Dr. Van Helsing insisted
on my wearing round my neck, and tore it away from me. For a second or
two she sat up, pointing at the wolf, and there was a strange and
horrible gurgling in her throat. Then she fell over, as if struck with
lightning, and her head hit my forehead and made me dizzy for a moment
or two.

The room and all round seemed to spin round. I kept my eyes fixed on the
window, but the wolf drew his head back, and a whole myriad of little
specks seems to come blowing in through the broken window, and wheeling
and circling round like the pillar of dust that travellers describe when
there is a simoon in the desert. I tried to stir, but there was some
spell upon me, and dear Mother's poor body, which seemed to grow cold
already, for her dear heart had ceased to beat, weighed me down, and I
remembered no more for a while.

The time did not seem long, but very, very awful, till I recovered
consciousness again. Somewhere near, a passing bell was tolling. The
dogs all round the neighborhood were howling, and in our shrubbery,
seemingly just outside, a nightingale was singing. I was dazed and
stupid with pain and terror and weakness, but the sound of the
nightingale seemed like the voice of my dead mother come back to comfort
me. The sounds seemed to have awakened the maids, too, for I could hear
their bare feet pattering outside my door. I called to them, and they
came in, and when they saw what had happened, and what it was that lay
over me on the bed, they screamed out. The wind rushed in through the
broken window, and the door slammed to. They lifted off the body of my
dear mother, and laid her, covered up with a sheet, on the bed after I
had got up. They were all so frightened and nervous that I directed them
to go to the dining room and each have a glass of wine. The door flew
open for an instant and closed again. The maids shrieked, and then went
in a body to the dining room, and I laid what flowers I had on my dear
mother's breast. When they were there I remembered what Dr. Van Helsing
had told me, but I didn't like to re- move them, and besides, I would
have some of the servants to sit up with me now. I was surprised that
the maids did not come back. I called them, but got no answer, so I went
to the dining room to look for them.

My heart sank when I saw what had happened. They all four lay helpless
on the floor, breathing heavily. The de- canter of sherry was on the
table half full, but there was a queer, acrid smell about. I was
suspicious, and examined the decanter. It smelt of laudanum, and looking
on the sideboard,I found that the bottle which Mother's doctor uses for
her--oh! did use--was empty. What am I to do? What am I to do? I am back
in the room with Mother.I cannot leave her, and I am alone, save for the
sleeping servants, whom some one has drugged. Alone with the dead! I
dare not go out, for I can hear the low howl of the wolf through the
broken window.

The air seems full of specks, floating and circling in the draught from
the window, and the lights burn blue and dim. What am I to do? God
shield me from harm this night! I shall hide this paper in my breast,
where they shall find it when they come to lay me out. My dear mother
gone! It is time that I go too. Goodbye, dear Arthur, if I should not
survive this night. God keep you, dear, and God help me!


CHAPTER 12


   DR. SEWARD'S DIARY


18 September.--I drove at once to Hillingham and ar- rived early.
Keeping my cab at the gate, I went up the avenue alone. I knocked gently
and rang as quietly as pos- sible, for I feared to disturb Lucy or her
mother, and hoped to only bring a servant to the door. After a while,
finding no response, I knocked and rang again, still no answer. I cursed
the laziness of the servants that they should lie abed at such an
hour,for it was now ten o'clock, and so rang and knocked again, but more
impatiently, but still without response. Hitherto I had blamed only the
servants, but now a terrible fear began to assail me. Was this
desolation but another link in the chain of doom which seemed drawing
tight round us? Was it indeed a house of death to which I had come, too
late? I know that minutes, even seconds of delay, might mean hours of
danger to Lucy, if she had had again one of those frightful relapses,
and I went round the house to try if I could find by chance an entry
anywhere.
 I could find no means of ingress. Every window and door was fastened
and locked, and I returned baffled to the porch. As I did so, I heard
the rapid pit-pat of a swiftly driven horse's feet. They stopped at the
gate, and a few seconds later I met Van Helsing running up the avenue.
When he saw me, he gasped out, "Then it was you, and just arrived. How
is she? Are we too late? Did you not get my telegram?"

I answered as quickly and coherently as I could that I had only got his
telegram early in the morning, and had not a minute in coming here, and
that I could not make any one in the house hear me. He paused and raised
his hat as he said solemnly, "Then I fear we are too late. God's will be
done!"

With his usual recuperative energy, he went on, "Come. If there be no
way open to get in, we must make one. Time is all in all to us now."

We went round to the back of the house, where there was a kitchen
window. The Professor took a small surgical saw from his case, and
handing it to me,pointed to the iron bars which guarded the window. I
attacked them at once and had very soon cut through three of them. Then
with a long, thin knife we pushed back the fastening of the sashes and
opened the window. I helped the Professor in, and followed him. There
was no one in the kitchen or in the servants' rooms, which were close at
hand. We tried all the rooms as we went along, and in the dining room,
dimly lit by rays of light through the shutters, found four servant
women lying on the floor. There was no need to think them dead, for
their ster- torous breathing and the acrid smell of laudanum in the room
left no doubt as to their condition.

Van Helsing and I looked at each other, and as we moved away he said,
"We can attend to them later."Then we ascended to Lucy's room. For an
instant or two we paused at the door to listen, but there was no sound
that we could hear. With white faces and trembling hands, we opened the
door gently, and entered the room.

How shall I describe what we saw? On the bed lay two women, Lucy and her
mother. The latter lay farthest in, and she was covered with a white
sheet, the edge of which had been blown back by the drought through the
broken window, showing the drawn, white, face, with a look of terror
fixed upon it. By her side lay Lucy, with face white and still more
drawn. The flowers which had been round her neck we found upon her
mother's bosom, and her throat was bare,show- ing the two little wounds
which we had noticed before, but looking horribly white and mangled.
Without a word the Pro- fessor bent over the bed, his head almost
touching poor Lucy's breast. Then he gave a quick turn of his head, as
of one who listens, and leaping to his feet, he cried out to me, "It is
not yet too late! Quick! Quick! Bring the brandy!"

I flew downstairs and returned with it, taking care to smell and taste
it, lest it, too, were drugged like the de- canter of sherry which I
found on the table. The maids were still breathing, but more restlessly,
and I fancied that the narcotic was wearing off. I did not stay to make
sure, but returned to Van Helsing. He rubbed the brandy, as on another
occasion, on her lips and gums and on her wrists and the palms of her
hands. He said to me, "I can do this, all that can be at the present.
You go wake those maids. Flick them in the face with a wet towel, and
flick them hard. Make them get heat and fire and a warm bath. This poor
soul is nearly as cold as that beside her. She will need be heated
before we can do anything more."

I went at once, and found little difficulty in waking three of the
women. The fourth was only a young girl, and the drug had evidently
affected her more strongly so I lift- ed her on the sofa and let her
sleep.

The others were dazed at first, but as remembrance came back to them
they cried and sobbed in a hysterical manner. I was stern with them,
however, and would not let them talk. I told them that one life was bad
enough to lose, and if they delayed they would sacrifice Miss Lucy. So,
sobbing and cry- ing they went about their way, half clad as they were,
and prepared fire and water. Fortunately, the kitchen and boiler fires
were still alive, and there was no lack of hot water. We got a bath and
carried Lucy out as she was and placed her in it. Whilst we were busy
chafing her limbs there was a knock at the hall door. One of the maids
ran off, hurried on some more clothes, and opened it. Then she returned
and whispered to us that there was a gentleman who had come with a
message from Mr. Holmwood. I bade her simply tell him that he must wait,
for we could see no one now. She went away with the message, and,
engrossed with our work, I clean forgot all about him.

I never saw in all my experience the Professor work in such deadly
earnest. I knew, as he knew, that it was a stand-up fight with death,
and in a pause told him so. He answered me in a way that I did not
understand, but with the sternest look that his face could wear.

"If that were all, I would stop here where we are now, and let her fade
away into peace, for I see no light in life over her horizon." He went
on with his work with, if poss- ible, renewed and more frenzied vigour.

Presently we both began to be conscious that the heat was beginning to
be of some effect. Lucy's heart beat a trifle more audibly to the
stethoscope, and her lungs had a perceptible movement. Van Helsing's
face almost beamed, and as we lifted her from the bath and rolled her in
a hot sheet to dry her he said to me, "The first gain is ours! Check to
the King!"

We took Lucy into another room, which had by now been prepared, and laid
her in bed and forced a few drops of brandy down her throat. I noticed
that Van Helsing tied a soft silk handkerchief round her throat. She was
still unconscious, and was quite as bad as, if not worse than, we had
ever seen her.

Van Helsing called in one of the women, and told her to stay with her
and not to take her eyes off her till we re- turned, and then beckoned
me out of the room.

"We must consult as to what is to be done," he said as we descended the
stairs. In the hall he opened the dining room door, and we passed in, he
closing the door carefully behind him. The shutters had been opened, but
the blinds were already down, with that obedience to the etiquette of
death which the British woman of the lower classes always rigidly
observes. The room was, therefore, dimly dark. It was, however, light
enough for our purposes. Van Helsing's sternness was somewhat relieved
by a look of perplexity. He was evidently torturing his mind about
something,so I waited for an instant, and he spoke.

"What are we to do now? Where are we to turn for help? We must have
another transfusion of blood, and that soon, or that poor girl's life
won't be worth an hour's purchase. You are exhausted already. I am
exhausted too. I fear to trust those women, even if they would have
courage to submit. What are we to do for some one who will open his
veins for her?"

"What's the matter with me, anyhow?"

The voice came from the sofa across the room, and its tones brought
relief and joy to my heart,for they were those of Quincey Morris.

Van Helsing started angrily at the first sound, but his face softened
and a glad look came into his eyes as I cried out, "Quincey Morris!" and
rushed towards him with out- stretched hands.

"What brought you her?" I cried as our hands met.

"I guess Art is the cause."

He handed me a telegram.-- `Have not heard from Seward for three days,
and am terribly anxious.Cannot leave. Father still in same condition.
Send me word how Lucy is. Do not delay.--Holmwood.'

"I think I came just in the nick of time. You know you have only to tell
me what to do."

Van Helsing strode forward, and took his hand, looking him straight in
the eyes as he said, "A brave man's blood is the best thing on this
earth when a woman is in trouble. You're a man and no mistake. Well, the
devil may work against us for all he's worth, but God sends us men when
we want them."

Once again we went through that ghastly operation. I have not the heart
to go through with the details. Lucy had got a terrible shock and it
told on her more than before,for though plenty of blood went into her
veins, her body did not respond to the treatment as well as on the other
occasions. Her struggle back into life was something frightful to see
and hear. However, the action of both heart and lungs im- proved, and
Van Helsing made a sub-cutaneous injection of morphia, as before, and
with good effect. Her faint became a profound slumber. The Professor
watched whilst I went downstairs with Quincey Morris, and sent one of
the maids to pay off one of the cabmen who were waiting.

I left Quincey lying down after having a glass of wine, and told the
cook to get ready a good breakfast. Then a thought struck me, and I went
back to the room where Lucy now was. When I came softly in, I found Van
Helsing with a sheet or two of note paper in his hand. He had evidently
read it, and was thinking it over as he sat with his hand to his brow.
There was a look of grim satisfaction in his face, as of one who has had
a doubt solved. He handed me the paper saying only, "It dropped from
Lucy's breast when we carried her to the bath."

When I had read it, I stook looking at the Professor, and after a pause
asked him, "In God's name, what does it all mean? Was she, or is she,
mad, or what sort of horri- ble danger is it?" I was so bewildered that
I did not know what to say more. Van Helsing put out his hand and took
the paper, saying,

"Do not trouble about it now. Forget if for the pre- sent. You shall
know and understand it all in good time, but it will be later. And now
what is it that you came to me to say?" This brought me back to fact,
and I was all myself again.

"I came to speak about the certificate of death.If we do not act
properly and wisely, there may be an inquest, and that paper would have
to be produced. I am in hopes that we need have no inquest, for if we
had it would surely kill poor Lucy, if nothing else did. I know, and you
know, and the other doctor who attended her knows, that Mrs. Westenra
had disease of the heart, and we can certify that she died of it. Let us
fill up the certificate at once, and I shall take it myself to the
registrar and go on to the undertaker."

"Good, oh my friend John! Well thought of! Truly Miss Lucy, if she be
sad in the foes that beset her, is at least happy in the friends
thatlove her. One, two, three, all open their veins for her, besides one
old man. Ah, yes, I know, friend John. I am not blind! I love you all
the more for it! Now go."

In the hall I met Quincey Morris, with a telegram for Arthur telling him
that Mrs. Westenra was dead, that Lucy also had been ill, but was now
going on better, and that Van Helsing and I were with her. I told him
where I was going, and he hurried me out, but as I was going said,
 "When you come back, Jack, may I have two words with you all to
ourselves?" I nodded in reply and went out.I found no difficulty about
the registration,and arranged with the local undertaker to come up in
the evening to measure for the coffin and to make arrangements.

When I got back Quincey was waiting for me. I told him I would see him
as soon as I knew about Lucy, and went up to her room. She was still
sleeping, and the Professor seemingly had not moved from his seat at her
side. From his putting his finger to his lips, I gathered that he
expected her to wake before long and was afraid of fore-stalling nature.
So I went down to Quincey and took him into the breakfast room, where
the blinds were not drawn down, and which was a little more cheerful, or
rather less cheerless, than the other rooms.

When we were alone, he said to me, "Jack Seward, I don't want to shove
myself in anywhere where I've no right to be, but this is no ordinary
case. You know I loved that girl and wanted to marry her, but although
that's all past and gone, I can't help feeling anxious about her all the
same. What is it that's wrong with her? The Dutchman, and a fine old
fellow is is, I can see that, said that time you two came into the room,
that you must have another transfusion of blood, and that both you and
he were exhausted. Now I know well that you medical men speak in camera,
and that a man must not expect to know what they consult about in
private. But this is no common matter, and whatever it is, I have done
my part.Is not that so?"

"That's so," I said, and he went on.

"I take it that both you and Van Helsing had done al- ready what I did
today. Is not that so?"

"That's so."

"And I guess Art was in it too. When I saw him four days ago down at his
own place he looked queer. I have not seen anything pulled down so quick
since I was on the Pampas and had a mare that I was fond of go to grass
all in a night. One of those big bats that they call vampires had got at
her in the night,and what with his gorge and the vein left open, there
wasn't enough blood in her to let her stand up, and I had to put a
bullet through her as she lay. Jack, if you may tell me without
betraying confidence, Arthur was the first, is not that so?"

As he spoke the poor fellow looked terribly anxious. He was in a torture
of suspense regarding the woman he loved, and his utter ignorance of the
terrible mystery which seem- ed to surround her intensified his pain.
His very heart was bleeding, and it took all the manhood of him, and
there was a royal lot of it, too, to keep him from breaking down. I
paused before answering, for I felt that I must not betray anything
which the Professor wished kept secret, but already he knew so much, and
guessed so much, that there could be no reason for not answering, so I
answered in the same phrase.

"That's so."

"And how long has this been going on?"

"About ten days."

"Ten days! Then I guess, Jack Seward, that that poor pretty creature
that we all love has had put into her veins within that time the blood
of four strong men. Man alive, her whole body wouldn't hold it." Then
coming close to me, he spoke in a fierce half-whisper. "What took it
out?"

I shook my head. "That," I said, "is the crux. Van Helsing is simply
frantic about it, and I am at my wits' end. I can't even hazard a guess.
There has been a series of little circumstances which have thrown out
all our calcula- tions as to Lucy being properly watched. But these
shall not occur again. Here we stay until all be well, or ill."

Quincey held out his hand. "Count me in," he said. "You and the Dutchman
will tell me what to do, and I'll do it."

When she woke late in the afternoon, Lucy's first move- ment was to feel
in her breast, and to my surprise, produced the paper which Van Helsing
had given me to read. The care- ful Professor had replaced it where it
had come from, lest on waking she should be alarmed. Her eyes then lit
on Van Helsing and on me too, and gladdened. Then she looked round the
room, and seeing where she was, shuddered. She gave a loud cry, and put
her poor thin hands before her pale face.

We both understood what was meant, that she had real- ized to the full
her mother's death. So we tried what we could to comfort her. Doubtless
sympathy eased her somewhat, but she was very low in thought and
spirit,and wept silently and weakly for a long time. We told her that
either or both of us would now remain with her all the time,and that
seemed to comfort her. Towards dusk she fell into a doze. Here a very
odd thing occurred. Whilst still asleep she took the paper from her
breast and tore it in two.Van Helsing stepped over and took the pieces
from her. All the same, however, she went on with the action of tearing,
as though the mater- ial were still in her hands. Finally she lifted her
hands and opened them as though scattering the fragments. Van Helsing
seemed surprised, and his brows gathered as if in thought, but he said
nothing.


19 September.--All last night she slept fitfully, being always afraid to
sleep, and something weaker when she woke from it. The Professor and I
took in turns to watch, and we never left her for a moment unattended.
Quincey Morris said nothing about his intention, but I knew that all
night long he patrolled round and round the house.

When the day came, its searching light showed the rav- ages in poor
Lucy's strength. She was hardly able to turn her head, and the little
nourishment which she could take seemed to do her no good. At times she
slept, and both Van Helsing and I noticed the difference in her, between
sleep- ing and waking. Whilst asleep she looked stronger, although more
haggard, and her breathing was softer. Her open mouth showed the pale
gums drawn back from the teeth, which looked positively longer and
sharper than usual. When she woke the softness of her eyes evidently
changed the expression, for she looked her own self, although a dying
one. In the after- noon she asked for Arthur, and we telegraphed for
him.Quinc- ey went off to meet him at the station.

When he arrived it was nearly six o'clock, and the sun was setting full
and warm, and the red light streamed in through the window and gave more
color to the pale cheeks. When he saw her, Arthur was simply choking
with emotion, and none of us could speak.In the hours that had
passed,the fits of sleep, or the comatose condition that passed for it,
had grown more frequent,so that the pauses when conversation was
possible were shortened. Arthur's presence, however, seemed to act as a
stimulant.She rallied a little, and spoke to him more brightly than she
had done since we arrived. He too pulled himself together, and spoke as
cheerily as he could, so that the best was made of everything.

It is now nearly one o'clock, and he and Van Helsing are sitting with
her. I am to relieve them in a quarter of an hour,and I am entering this
on Lucy's phonograph.Until six o'clock they are to try to rest. I fear
that tomorrow will end our watching, for the shock has been too great.
The poor child cannot rally. God help us all.

 LETTER MINA HARKER TO LUCY WESTENRA

 (Unopened by her)


 17 September

My dearest Lucy,

"It seems an age since I heard from you,or indeed since I wrote. You
will pardon me, I know, for all my faults when you have read all my
budget of news. Well, I got my hus- band back all right. When we arrived
at Exeter there was a carriage waiting for us, and in it, though he had
an attack of gout, Mr. Hawkins. He took us to his house, where there
were rooms for us all nice and comfortable, and we dined together. After
dinner Mr. Hawkins said,

" `My dears, I want to drink your health and prosper- ity, and may every
blessing attend you both. I know you both from children, and have, with
love and pride, seen you grow up. Now I want you to make your home here
with me. I have left to me neither chick nor child.All are gone, and in
my will I have left you everything.' I cried, Lucy dear, as Jonathan and
the old man clasped hands. Our evening was a very, very happy one.

"So here we are, installed in this beautiful old house, and from both my
bedroom and the drawing room I can see the great elms of the cathedral
close, with their great black stems standing out against the old yellow
stone of the cath- edral, and I can hear the rooks overhead cawing and
cawing and chattering and chattering and gossiping all day, after the
manner of rooks--and humans. I am busy, I need not tell you, arranging
things and housekeeping. Jonathan and Mr. Hawkins are busy all day,for
now that Jonathan is a partner, Mr. Hawkins wants to tell him all about
the clients.

"How is your dear mother getting on? I wish I could run up to town for a
day or two to see you, dear, but I,dare not go yet, with so much on my
shoulders, and Jonathan wants looking after still.He is beginning to put
some flesh on his bones again,but he was terribly weakened by the long
illness. Even now he sometimes starts out of his sleep in a sudden way
and awakes all trembling until I can coax him back to his usual
placidity.However, thank God, these occasions grow less frequent as the
days go on, and they will in time pass away altogether, I trust. And now
I have told you my news, let me ask yours. When are you to be married,
and where, and who is to perform the ceremony,and what are you to wear,
and is it to be a public or private wedding? Tell me all about it, dear,
tell me all about everything, for there is nothing which interests you
which will not be dear to me. Jonathan asks me to send his `respectful
duty', but I do not think that is good enough from the junior partner of
the important firm Hawkins & Harker. And so, as you love me, and he
loves me,and I love you with all the moods and tenses of the verb, I
send you simply his `love' instead. Goodbye, my dearest Lucy, and
blessings on you." Yours, Mina Harker

 REPORT FROM PATRICK HENNESSEY, MD, MRCSLK, QCPI, ETC, ETC, TO JOHN
SEWARD, MD

 20 September

My dear Sir:

"In accordance with your wishes, I enclose report of the conditions of
everything left in my charge. With regard to patient, Renfield, there is
more to say. He has had an- other outbreak, which might have had a
dreadful ending, but which, as it fortunately happened, was unattended
with any unhappy results.This afternoon a carrier's cart with two men
made a call at the empty house whose grounds abut on ours, the house to
which, you will remember, the patient twice ran away. The men stopped at
our gate to ask the porter their way, as they were strangers.

"I was myself looking out of the study window, having a smoke after
dinner, and saw one of them come up to the house. As he passed the
window of Renfield's room, the patient be- gan to rate him from within,
and called him all the foul names he could lay his tongue to. The man,
who seemed a de- cent fellow enough,contented himself by telling him to
`shut up for a foul-mouthed beggar',whereon our man accused him of
robbing him and wanting to murder him and said that he would hinder him
if he were to swing for it. I opened the window and signed to the man
not to notice, so he contented himself after looking the place over and
making up his mind as to what kind of place he had got to by saying,
`Lor' bless yer, sir, I wouldn't mind what was said to me in a bloomin'
mad- house. I pity ye and the guv'nor for havin' to live in the house
with a wild beast like that.'

"Then he asked his way civilly enough, and I told him where the gate of
the empty house was. He went away follow- ed by threats and curses and
revilings from our man. I went down to see if I could make out any cause
for his anger, since he is usually such a well-behaved man, and except
his violent fits nothing of the kind had ever occurred. I found him, to
my astonishment, quite composed and most genial in his manner. I tried
to get him to talk of the incident, but he blandly asked me questions as
to what I meant, and led me to believe that he was completely oblivious
of the affair. It was, I am sorry to say, however, only another instance
of his cunning, for within half an hour I heard of him again. This time
he had broken out through the window of his room, and was running down
the avenue. I called to the attendants to follow me, and ran after him,
for I feared he was intent on some mischief. My fear was justified when
I saw the same cart which had passed before coming down the road,having
on it some great wooden boxes. The men were wiping their fore- heads,
and were flushed in the face, as if with violent ex- ercise. Before I
could get up to him, the patient rushed at them, and pulling one of them
off the cart, began to knock his head against the ground. If I had not
seized him just at the moment, I believe he would have killed the man
there and then. The other fellow jumped down and struck him over the
head with the butt end of his heavy whip. It was a horrible blow, but he
did not seem to mind it, but seized him also, and struggled with the
three of us, pulling us to and fro as if we were kittens. You know I am
no lightweight, and the others were both burly men. At first he was
silent in his fighting, but as we began to master him, and the at-
tendants were putting a strait waistcoat on him,he began to shout, `I'll
frustrate them! They shan't rob me!They shan't murder me by inches! I'll
fight for my Lord and Master!'and all sorts of similar incoherent
ravings. It was with very considerable difficulty that they got him back
to the house and put him in the padded room. One of the attendants,
Hardy, had a finger broken.However, I set it all right, and he is going
on well.

"The two carriers were at first loud in their threats of actions for
damages, and promised to rain all the pen- alties of the law on us.
Their threats were, however, mingled with some sort of indirect apology
for the defeat of the two of them by a feeble madman. They said that if
it had not been for the way their strength had been spent in carrying
and raising the heavy boxes to the cart they would have made short work
of him. They gave as another reason for their defeat the extraordinary
state of drouth to which they had been reduced by the dusty nature of
their occupation and the reprehensible distance from the scene of their
labors of any place of public entertainment. I quite understood their
drift, and after a stiff glass of strong grog, or rather more of the
same, and with each a sovereign in hand, they made light of the attack,
and swore that they would encounter a worse madman any day for the
pleasure of meeting so `bloomin' good a bloke' as your correspondent. I
took their names and addresses, in case they might be needed. They are
as follows: Jack Smollet, of Dudding's Rents, King George's Road, Great
Walworth, and Thomas Snelling, Peter Farley's Row, Guide Court, Bethnal
Green. They are both in the employment of Harris & Sons, Moving and
Shipment Company, Orange Master's Yard, Soho.

"I shall report to you any matter of interest occurr- ing here, and
shall wire you at once if there is anything of importance.

 "Believe me, dear Sir,

 "Yours faithfully,

 "Patrick Hennessey."



LETTER, MINA HARKER TO LUCY WESTENRA
 (Unopened by her)


 18 September

"My dearest Lucy,

"Such a sad blow has befallen us. Mr. Hawkins has died very suddenly.
Some may not think it so sad for us, but we had both come to so love him
that it really seems as though we had lost a father. I never knew either
father or mother, so that the dear old man's death is a real blow to me.
Jon- athan is greatly distressed. It is not only that he feels sorrow,
deep sorrow,for the dear,good man who has befriended him all his
life,and now at the end has treated him like his own son and left him a
fortune which to people of our modest bringing up is wealth beyond the
dream of avarice, but Jona- than feels it on another account. He says
the amount of re- sponsibility which it puts upon him makes him nervous.
He begins to doubt himself.I try to cheer him up, and my belief in him
helps him to have a belief in himself. But it is here that the grave
shock that he experienced tells upon him the most. Oh, it is too hard
that a sweet, simple, noble, strong nature such as his, a nature which
enabled him by our dear, good friend's aid to rise from clerk to master
in a few years, should be so injured that the very essence of its
strength is gone. Forgive me, dear, if I worry you with my troubles in
the midst of your own happiness, but Lucy dear, I must tell someone,for
the strain of keeping up a brave and cheerful appearance to Jonathan
tries me, and I have no one here that I can confide in. I dread coming
up to London, as we must do that day after tomorrow, for poor Mr.Hawkins
left in his will that he was to be buried in the grave with his father.
As there are no relations at all, Jonathan will have to be chief
mourner. I shall try to run over to see you, dearest,if only for a few
minutes. Forgive me for troubling you. With all blessings,

 "Your loving

 Mina Harker"
 DR. SEWARD' DIARY


20 September.--Only resolution and habit can let me make an entry
tonight. I am too miserable, too low spirited, too sick of the world and
all in it, including life itself, that I would not care if I heard this
moment the flapping of the wings of the angel of death. And he has been
flapping those grim wings to some purpose of late, Lucy's mother and
Arthur's father, and now . . .Let me get on with my work.

I duly relieved Van Helsing in his watch over Lucy. We wanted Arthur to
go to rest also, but he refused at first. It was only when I told him
that we should want him to help us during the day, and that we must not
all break down for want of rest, lest Lucy should suffer, that he agreed
to go.

Van Helsing was very kind to him. "Come, my child," he said. "Come with
me. You are sick and weak, and have had much sorrow and much mental
pain,as well as that tax on your strength that we know of. You must not
be alone, for to be alone is to be full of fears and alarms. Come to the
drawing room, where there is a big fire, and there are two sofas.You
shall lie on one, and I on the other, and our sympathy will be comfort
to each other, even though we do not speak, and even if we sleep."

Arthur went off with him, casting back a longing look on Lucy's face,
which lay in her pillow, almost whiter than the lawn. She lay quite
still, and I looked around the room to see that all was as it should be.
I could see that the Professor had carried out in this room, as in the
other, his purpose of using the garlic. The whole of the window sashes
reeked with it, and round Lucy's neck, over the silk hand- kerchief
which Van Helsing made her keep on, was a rough chaplet of the same
odorous flowers.

Lucy was breathing somewhat stertorously, and her face was at its worst,
for the open mouth showed the pale gums. Her teeth, in the dim,
uncertain light, seemed longer and sharper than they had been in the
morning. In particular, by some trick of the light, the canine teeth
looked longer and sharper than the rest.

I sat down beside her, and presently she moved uneas- ily. At the same
moment there came a sort of dull flapping or buffeting at the window. I
went over to it softly, and peeped out by the corner of the blind. There
was a full moonlight,and I could see that the noise was made by a great
bat, which wheeled around, doubtless attracted by the light, although so
dim, and every now and again struck the window with its wings. When I
came back to my seat, I found that Lucy had moved slightly,and had torn
away the garlic flowers from her throat. I replaced them as well as I
could, and sat watching her.

Presently she woke, and I gave her food, as Van Helsing had prescribed.
She took but a little, and that languidly. There did not seem to be with
her now the unconscious strug- gle for life and strength that had
hitherto so marked her illness. It struck me as curious that the moment
she became conscious she pressed the garlic flowers close to her. It was
certainly odd that whenever she got into that lethargic state, with the
stertorous breathing, she put the flowers from her, but that when she
waked she clutched them close, There was no possibility of making amy
mistake about this, for in the long hours that followed, she had many
spells of sleeping and waking and repeated both actions many times.

At six o'clock Van Helsing came to relieve me. Arthur had then fallen
into a doze, and he mercifully let him sleep on. When he saw Lucy's face
I could hear the sissing indraw of breath, and he said to me in a sharp
whisper."Draw up the blind. I want light!" Then he bent down, and, with
his face almost touching Lucy's, examined her carefully. He removed the
flowers and lifted the silk handkerchief from her throat. As he did so
he started back and I could hear his ejacula- tion, "Mein Gott!" as it
was smothered in his throat. I bent over and looked, too, and as I
noticed some queer chill came over me. The wounds on the throat had
absolutely dis- appeared.

For fully five minutes Van Helsing stood looking at her, with his face
at its sternest. Then he turned to me and said calmly, "She is dying. It
will not be long now. It will be much difference, mark me, whether she
dies conscious or in her sleep. Wake that poor boy, and let him come and
see the last. He trusts us, and we have promised him."

I went to the dining room and waked him. He was dazed for a moment, but
when he saw the sunlight streaming in through the edges of the shutters
he thought he was late,and expressed his fear. I assured him that Lucy
was still asleep, but told him as gently as i could that both Van
Helsing and I feared that the end was near. He covered his face with his
hands, and slid down on his knees by the sofa, where he re- mained,
perhaps a minute, with his head buried, praying, whilst his shoulders
shook with grief. I took him by the hand and raised him up. "Come," I
said, "my dear old fellow, summon all your fortitude. It will be best
and easiest for her."

When we came into Lucy's room I could see that Van Hel- sing had, with
his usual forethought, been putting matters straight and making
everything look as pleasing as possible. He had even brushed Lucy's
hair, so that it lay on the pillow in its usual sunny ripples. When we
came into the room she opened her eyes, and seeing him, whispered
softly, "Arthur! Oh, my love, I am so glad you have come!"

He was stooping to kiss her, when Van Helsing motioned him back. "No,"
he whispered, "not yet! Hold her hand, it will comfort her more."

So Arthur took her hand and knelt beside her, and she looked her
best,with all the soft lines matching the angelic beauty of her eyes.
Then gradually her eyes closed, and she sank to sleep. For a little bit
her breast heaved softly, and her breath came and went like a tired
child's.

And then insensibly there came the strange change which I had noticed in
the night. Her breathing grew stertorous, the mouth opened, and the pale
gums, drawn back, made the teeth look longer and sharper than ever. In a
sort of sleep- waking, vague, unconscious way she opened her eyes, which
were now dull and hard at once,and said in a soft,voluptuous voice, such
as I had never heard from her lips, "Arthur! Oh, my love, I am so glad
you have come! Kiss me!"

Arthur bent eagerly over to kiss her, but at that in- stant Van Helsing,
who, like me, had been startled by her voice, swooped upon him, and
catching him by the neck with both hands, dragged him back with a fury
of strength which I never thought he could have possessed, and actually
hurl- ed him almost across the room.
 "Not on your life!" he said, "not for your living soul and hers!" And
he stood between them like a lion at bay.

Arthur was so taken aback that he did not for a moment know what to do
or say, and before any impulse of violence could seize him he realized
the place and the occasion, and stood silent, waiting.

I kept my eyes fixed on Lucy, as did Van Helsing, and we saw a spasm as
of rage flit like a shadow over her face. The sharp teeth clamped
together. Then her eyes closed, and she breathed heavily.

Very shortly after she opened her eyes in all their softness, and
putting out her poor, pale, thin hand, took Van Helsing's great brown
one, drawing it close to her, she kissed it. "My true friend," she said,
in a faint voice,but with untellable pathos, "My true friend, and his!
Oh, guard him, and give me peace!"

"I swear it!" he said solemnly, kneeling beside her and holding up his
hand, as one who registers an oath. Then he turned to Arthur, and said
to him, "Come, my child, take her hand in yours, and kiss her on the
forehead, and only once."

Their eyes met instead of their lips, and so they part- ed. Lucy's eyes
closed, and Van Helsing, who had been watch- ing closely, took Arthur's
arm, and drew him away.

And then Lucy's breathing became stertorous again, and all at once it
ceased.

"It is all over," said Van Helsing. "She is dead!"

I took Arthur by the arm, and led him away to the draw- ing room, where
he sat down, and covered his face with his hands, sobbing in a way that
nearly broke me down to see.

I went back to the room, and found Van Helsing looking at poor Lucy, and
his face was sterner than eve. Some change had come over her body. Death
had given back part of her beauty, for her brow and cheeks had recovered
some of their flowing lines. Even the lips had lost their deadly pallor.
It was as if the blood, no longer needed for the working of the heart,
had gone to make the harshness of death as little rude as might be.

"We thought her dying whilst she slept,
 And sleeping when she died."


I stood beside Van Helsing, and said, "Ah well, poor girl, there is
peace for her at last. It is the end!"

He turned to me, and said with grave solemnity,"Not so, alas! Not so. It
is only the beginning!"

When I asked him what he meant, he only shook his head and answered, "We
can do nothing as yet. Wait and see."


CHAPTER 13


  DR. SEWARD'S DIARY--cont.


The funeral was arranged for the next succeeding day, so that Lucy and
her mother might be buried together. I attended to all the ghastly
formalities, and the urbane undertaker proved that his staff was
afflicted, or blessed, with something of his own obsequious suavity.
Even the woman who performed the last offices for the dead remarked to
me, in a confidential, brother-professional way, when she had come out
from the death chamber,

"She makes a very beautiful corpse, sir. It's quite a privilege to
attend on her. It's not too much to say that she will do credit to our
establishment!"

I noticed that Van Helsing never kept far away. This was possible from
the disordered state of things in the household. There were no relatives
at hand, and as Arthur had to be back the next day to attend at his
father's fun- eral, we were unable to notify any one who should have
been bidden. Under the circumstances, Van Helsing and I took it upon
ourselves to examine papers, etc. He insisted upon looking over Lucy's
papers himself. I asked him why, for I feared that he, being a
foreigner, might not be quite aware of English legal requirements,and so
might in ignorance make some unnecessary trouble.

He answered me, "I know, I know. You forget that I am a lawyer as well
as a doctor. But this is not altogether for the law. You knew that, when
you avoided the coroner. I have more than him to avoid. There may be
papers more, such as this."

As he spoke he took from his pocket book the memorandum which had been
in Lucy's breast, and which she had torn in her sleep.

"When you find anything of the solicitor who is for the late
Mrs.Westenra, seal all her papers,and write him tonight. For me, I watch
here in the room and in Miss Lucy's old room all night, and I myself
search for what may be. It is not well that her very thoughts go into
the hands of strangers."

I went on with my part of the work, and in another half hour had found
the name and address of Mrs. Westenra's sol- icitor and had written to
him. All the poor lady's papers were in order. Explicit directions
regarding the place of burial were given. I had hardly sealed the
letter, when, to my surprise, Van Helsing walked into the room, saying,

"Can I help you friend John? I am free, and if I may, my service is to
you."

"Have you got what you looked for?" I asked.

To which he replied, "I did not look for any specific thing. I only
hoped to find, and find I have, all that there was, only some letters
and a few memoranda, and a diary new begun. But I have them here, and we
shall for the present say nothing of them. I shall see that poor lad
tomorrow evening, and, with his sanction, I shall use some."

When we had finished the work in hand, he said to me, "And now, friend
John, I think we may to bed. We want sleep, both you and I, and rest to
recuperate. Tomorrow we shall have much to do, but for the tonight there
is no need of us. Alas!"

Before turning in we went to look at poor Lucy. The undertaker had
certainly done his work well, for the room was turned into a small
chapelle ardente. There was a wild- erness of beautiful white flowers,
and death was made as little repulsive as might be. The end of the
winding sheet was laid over the face. When the Professor bent over and
turned it gently back, we both started at the beauty before us. The tall
wax candles showing a sufficient light to note it well. All Lucy's
loveliness had come back to her in death, and the hours that had passed,
instead of leaving traces of `decay's effacing fingers', had but
restored the beauty of life, till positively I could not believe my eyes
that I was looking at a corpse.

The Professor looked sternly grave. He had not loved her as I had, and
there was no need for tears in his eyes. He said to me, "Remain till I
return," and left the room. He came back with a handful of wild garlic
from the box waiting in the hall, but which had not been opened, and
placed the flowers amongst the others on and around the bed. Then he
took from his neck, inside his collar, a little gold cruci- fix, and
placed it over the mouth. He restored the sheet to its place, and we
came away.

I was undressing in my own room, when, with a premoni- tory tap at the
door, he entered, and at once began to speak.

"Tomorrow I want you to bring me, before night, a set of post-mortem
knives."

"Must we make an autopsy?" I asked.

"Yes and no. I want to operate, but not what you think. Let me tell you
now, but not a word to another. I want to cut off her head and take out
her heart. Ah! You a surgeon, and so shocked! You, whom I have seen with
no tremble of hand or heart, do operations of life and death that make
the rest shudder. Oh, but I must not forget, my dear friend John, that
you loved her, and I have not forgotten it for is I that shall operate,
and you must not help. I would like to do it tonight, but for Arthur I
must not. He will be free after his father's funeral tomorrow, and he
will want to see her, to see it. Then, when she is coffined ready for
the next day, you and I shall come when all sleep. We shall unscrew the
coffin lid, and shall do our operation, and then replace all, so that
none know, save we alone."

"But why do it at all? The girl is dead. Why mutilate her poor body
without need? And if there is no necessity for a post-mortem and nothing
to gain by it, no good to her, to us, to science, to human knowledge,
why do it? Without such it is monstrous."

For answer he put his hand on my shoulder, and said, with infinite
tenderness, "Friend John, I pity your poor bleeding heart, and I love
you the more because it does so bleed. If I could, I would take on
myself the burden that you do bear. But there are things that you know
not, but that you shall know, and bless me for knowing, though they are
not pleasant things. John, my child, you have been my friend now many
years, and yet did you ever know me to do any without good cause? I may
err, I am but man, but I be- lieve in all I do. Was it not for these
causes that you send for me when the great trouble came? Yes! Were you
not amazed, nay horrified, when I would not let Arthur kiss his love,
though she was dying, and snatched him away by all my strength? Yes! And
yet you saw how she thanked me,with her so beautiful dying eyes, her
voice, too, so weak, and she kiss my rough old hand and bless me? Yes!
And did you not hear me swear promise to her, that so she closed her
eyes grateful? Yes!

"Well, I have good reason now for all I want to do. You have for many
years trust me.You have believe me weeks past, when there be things so
strange that you might have well doubt. Believe me yet a little, friend
John. If you trust me not, then I must tell what I think, and that is
not perhaps well. And if I work, as work I shall, no matter trust or no
trust,without my friend trust in me, I work with heavy heart and feel,
oh so lonely when I want all help and courage that may be!" He paused a
moment and went on solemnly, "Friend John, there are strange and
terrible days before us. Let us not be two, but one, that so we work to
a good end. Will you not have faith in me?"

I took his hand, and promised him. I held my door open as he went
away,and watched him go to his room and close the door. As I stood
without moving, I saw one of the maids pass silently along the passage,
she had her back to me, so did not see me, and go into the room where
Lucy lay. The sight touched me. Devotion is so rare, and we are so
grateful to those who show it unasked to those we love. Here was a poor
girl putting aside the terrors which she naturally had of death to go
watch alone by the bier of the mistress whom she loved, so that the poor
clay might not be lonely till laid to eternal rest.

I must have slept long and soundly, for it was broad daylight when Van
Helsing waked me by coming into my room. He came over to my bedside and
said, "You need not trouble about the knives. We shall not do it."

"Why not?" I asked. For his solemnity of the night before had greatly
impressed me.

"Because," he said sternly, "it is too late, or too early. See!" Here he
held up the little golden crucifix.

"This was stolen in the night."

"How stolen,"I asked in wonder,"since you have it now?"

"Because I get it back from the worthless wretch who stole it, from the
woman who robbed the dead and the living. Her punishment will surely
come, but not through me. She knew not altogether what she did, and thus
unknowing, she only stole. Now we must wait." He went away on the word,
leaving me with a new mystery to think of, a new puzzle to grapple with.

The forenoon was a dreary time, but at noon the solici- tor came,
Mr.Marquand, of Wholeman, Sons, Marquand & Lidder- dale. He was very
genial and very appreciative of what we had done, and took off our hands
all cares as to details. During lunch he told us that Mrs. Westenra had
for some time expected sudden death from her heart,and had put her
affairs in absolute order. He informed us that, with the exception of a
certain entailed property of Lucy's father which now, in default of
direct issue, went back to a distant branch of the family, the whole
estate, real and personal, was left absolutely to Arthur Holmwood. When
he had told us so much he went on,

"Frankly we did our best to prevent such a testamentary disposition,and
pointed out certain contingencies that might leave her daughter either
penniless or not so free as she should be to act regarding a matrimonial
alliance. Indeed, we pressed the matter so far that we almost came into
colli- sion, for she asked us if we were or were not prepared to carry
out her wishes. Of course, we had then no alternative but to accept. We
were right in principle, and ninety-nine times out of a hundred we
should have proved,by the logic of events, the accuracy of our judgment.

"Frankly, however, I must admit that in this case any other form of
disposition would have rendered impossible the carrying out of her
wishes. For by her predeceasing her daughter the latter would have come
into possession of the property, and, even had she only survived her
mother by five minutes, her property would, in case there were no will,
and a will was a practical impossibility in such a case, have been
treated at her decease as under intestacy. In which case Lord Godalming,
though so dear a friend, would have had no claim in the world. And the
inheritors, being remote, would not be likely to abandon their just
rights, for senti- mental reasons regarding an entire stranger. I assure
you, my dear sirs,I am rejoiced at the result,perfectly rejoiced."

He was a good fellow, but his rejoicing at the one little part, in which
he was officially interested, of so great a tragedy, was an
object-lesson in the limitations of sympathetic understanding.

He did not remain long, but said he would look in later in the day and
see Lord Godalming. His coming, however, had been a certain comfort to
us, since it assured us that we should not have to dread hostile
criticism as to any of our acts.Arthur was expected at five o'clock, so
a little before that time we visited the death chamber. It was so in
very truth, for now both mother and daughter lay in it.The under- taker,
true to his craft, had made the best display he could of his goods, and
there was a mortuary air about the place that lowered our spirits at
once.

Van Helsing ordered the former arrangement to be adher- ed to,
explaining that, as Lord Godalming was coming very soon, it would be
less harrowing to his feelings to see all that was left of his fiancee
quite alone.

The undertaker seemed shocked at his own stupidity and exerted himself
to restore things to the condition in which we left them the night
before, so that when Arthur came such shocks to his feelings as we could
avoid were saved.

Poor fellow! He looked desperately sad and broken. Even his stalwart
manhood seemed to have shrunk somewhat under the strain of his
much-tried emotions. He had, I knew, been very genuinely and devotedly
attached to his father, and to lose him, and at such a time, was a
bitter blow to him. With me he was warm as ever, and to Van Helsing he
was sweetly courteous. But I could not help seeing that there was some
constraint with him. The professor noticed it too, and motioned me to
bring him upstairs. I did so, and left him at the door of the room, as I
felt he would like to be quite alone with her, but he took my arm and
led me in, say- ing huskily,

"You loved her too, old fellow. She told me all about it, and there was
no friend had a closer place in her heart than you. I don't know how to
thank you for all you have done for her. I can't think yet . . ."

Here he suddenly broke down, and threw his arms round my shoulders and
laid his head on my breast, crying, "Oh, Jack! Jack! What shall I do?
The whole of life seems gone from me all at once, and there is nothing
in the wide world for me to live for."

I comforted him as well as I could. In such cases men do not need much
expression. A grip of the hand, the tight- ening of an arm over the
shoulder, a sob in unison, are ex- pressions of sympathy dear to a man's
heart. I stood still and silent till his sobs died away,and then I said
softly to him, "Come and look at her."

Together we moved over to the bed,and I lifted the lawn from her face.
God! How beautiful she was. Every hour seem- ed to be enhancing her
loveliness. It frightened and amazed me somewhat. And as for Arthur, he
fell to trembling, and finally was shaken with doubt as with an ague.At
last, after a long pause, he said to me in a faint whisper,"Jack, is she
really dead?"

I assured him sadly that it was so, and went on to sug- gest, for I felt
that such a horrible doubt should not have life for a moment longer than
I could help, that it often happened that after death faces become
softened and even resolved into their youthful beauty,that this was
especially so when death had been preceded by any acute or prolonged
suffering. I seemed to quite do away with any doubt, and af- ter
kneeling beside the couch for a while and looking at her lovingly and
long, he turned aside.I told him that that must be goodbye, as the
coffin had to be prepared,so he went back and took her dead hand in his
and kissed it, and bent over and kissed her forehead. He came away,
fondly looking back over his shoulder at her as he came.

I left him in the drawing room, and told Van Helsing that he had said
goodbye, so the latter went to the kitchen to tell the undertaker's men
to proceed with the prepera- tions and to screw up the coffin. When he
came out of the room again I told him of Arthur's question, and he
replied, "I am not surprised.Just now I doubted for a moment myself!"

We all dined together, and I could see that poor Art was trying to make
the best of things. Van Helsing had been silent all dinner time, but
when we had lit our cigars he said, "Lord . . ., but Arthur interrupted
him.

"No, no, not that, for God's sake! Not yet at any rate. Forgive me, sir.
I did not mean to speak offensively. It is only because my loss is so
recent."

The Professor answered very sweetly, "I only used that name because I
was in doubt. I must not call you `Mr.' and I have grown to love you,
yes, my dear boy, to love you, as Arthur."

Arthur held out his hand, and took the old man's warmly. "Call me what
you will," he said. "I hope I may always have the title of a friend. And
let me say that I am at a loss for words to thank you for your goodness
to my poor dear." He paused a moment, and went on, "I know that she
understood your goodness even better than I do. And if I was rude or in
any way wanting at that time you acted so, you remember,"-- the
Professor nodded--"You must forgive me."

He answered with a grave kindness, "I know it was hard for you to quite
trust me then, for to trust such violence needs to understand, and I
take it that you do not, that you cannot, trust me now, for you do not
yet understand. And there may be more times when I shall want you to
trust when you cannot, and may not, and must not yet understand.But the
time will come when your trust shall be whole and complete in me, and
when you shall understand as though the sunlight himself shone through.
Then you shall bless me from first to last for your own sake, and for
the sake of others, and for her dear sake to whom I swore to protect."

"And indeed, indeed, sir," said Arthur warmly. "I shall in all ways
trust you. I know and believe you have a very noble heart, and you are
Jack's friend, and you were hers. You shall do what you like."

The Professor cleared his throat a couple of times, as though about to
speak, and finally said, "May I ask you something now?"

"Certainly."

"You know that Mrs. Westenra left you all her property?"

"No, poor dear. I never thought of it."

"And as it is all yours, you have a right to deal with it as you will. I
want you to give me permission to read all Miss Lucy's papers and
letters. Believe me, it is no idle curiosity. I have a motive of which,
be sure, she would have approved. I have them all here. I took them
before we knew that all was yours, so that no strange hand might touch
them, no strange eye look through words into her soul. I shall keep
them, if I may. Even you may not see them yet, but I shall keep them
safe. No word shall be lost, and in the good time I shall give them back
to you. It is a hard thing that I ask, but you will do it, will you not,
for Lucy's sake?"

Arthur spoke out heartily, like his old self, "Dr. Van Helsing, you may
do what you will. I feel that in saying this I am doing what my dear one
would have approved. I shall not trouble you with questions till the
time comes."

The old Professor stood up as he said solemnly,"And you are right. There
will be pain for us all, but it will not be all pain, nor will this pain
be the last.We and you too, you most of all, dear boy, will have to pass
through the bitter water before we reach the sweet. But we must be brave
of heart and unselfish, and do our duty, and all will be well!"

I slept on a sofa in Arthur's room that night. Van Hel- sing did not go
to bed at all. He went to and fro, as if patroling the house, and was
never out of sight of the room where Lucy lay in her coffin, strewn with
the wild garlic flowers, which sent through the odor of lily and rose, a
heavy, overpowering smell into the night.

 MINA HARKER'S JOURNAL


22 September.--In the train to Exeter. Jonathan sleep- ing. It seems
only yesterday that the last entry was made, and yet how much between
then, in Whitby and all the world before me, Jonathan away and no news
of him, and now, marr- ied to Jonathan, Jonathan a solicitor, a partner,
rich, mas- ter of his business, Mr. Hawkins dead and buried, and Jona-
than with another attack that may harm him. Some day he may ask me about
it. Down it all goes. I am rusty in my short- hand, see what unexpected
prosperity does for us, so it may be as well to freshen it up again with
an exercise anyhow.

The service was very simple and very solemn. There were only ourselves
and the servants there,one or two old friends of his from Exeter, his
London agent, and a gentleman repre- senting Sir John Paxton, the
President of the Incorporated Law Society. Jonathan and I stood hand in
hand, and we felt that our best and dearest friend was gone from us.

We came back to town quietly, taking a bus to Hyde Park Corner. Jonathan
thought it would interest me to go into the Row for a while, so we sat
down. But there were very few people there, and it was sad-looking and
desolate to see so many empty chairs. It made us think of the empty
chair at home. So we got up and walked down Piccadilly. Jonathan was
holding me by the arm, the way he used to in the old days before I went
to school. I felt it very improper, for you can't go on for some years
teaching etiquette and decorum to other girls without the pedantry of it
biting into yourself a bit. But it was Jonathan, and he was my husband,
and we didn't know anybody who saw us, and we didn't care if they did,
so on we walked. I was looking at a very beautiful girl, in a big
cart-wheel hat, sitting in a victoria outside Guil- iano's, when I felt
Jonathan clutch my arm so tight that he hurt me, and he said under his
breath, "My God!"

I am always anxious about Jonathan, for I fear that some nervous fit may
upset him again. So I turned to him quickly, and asked him what it was
that disturbed him.

He was very pale, and his eyes seemed bulging out as, half in terror and
half in amazement, he gazed at a tall, thin man, with a beaky nose and
black moustache and pointed beard, who was also observing the pretty
girl.He was looking at her so hard that he did not see either of us,and
so I had a good view of him. His face was not a good face. It was hard,
and cruel,and sensual,and big white teeth, that looked all the whiter
because his lips were so red, were pointed like an animal's. Jonathan
kept staring at him, till I was afraid he would notice. I feared he
might take it ill, he looked so fierce and nasty. I asked Jonathan why
he was dis- turbed, and he answered, evidently thinking that I knew as
much about it as he did, "Do you see who it is?"

"No, dear," I said. "I don't know him, who is it?" His answer seemed to
shock and thrill me, for it was said as if he did not know that it was
me, Mina, to whom he was speaking. "It is the man himself!"

The poor dear was evidently terrified at something,very greatly
terrified. I do believe that if he had not had me to lean on and to
support him he would have sunk down. He kept staring. A man came out of
the shop with a small parcel, and gave it to the lady, who then drove
off. Th e dark man kept his eyes fixed on her, and when the carriage
moved up Piccadilly he followed in the same direction, and hailed a
hansom. Jonathan kept looking after him, and said, as if to himself,

"I believe it is the Count, but he has grown young. My God, if this be
so! Oh, my God! My God! If only I knew! If only I knew!" He was
distressing himself so much that I fear- ed to keep his mind on the
subject by asking him any ques- tions, so I remained silent. I drew away
quietly, and he, holding my arm, came easily. We walked a little
further, and then went in and sat for a while in the Green Park. It was
a hot day for autumn, and there was a comfortable seat in a shady place.
After a few minutes' staring at nothing, Jona- than's eyes closed, and
he went quickly into a sleep, with his head on my shoulder. I thought it
was the best thing for him, so did not disturb him. In about twenty
minutes he woke up, and said to me quite cheerfully,

"Why, Mina, have I been asleep! Oh, do forgive me for being so rude.
Come, and we'll have a cup of tea somewhere."

He had evidently forgotten all about the dark stranger, as in his
illness he had forgotten all that this episode had reminded him of. I
don't like this lapsing into forget- fulness. It may make or continue
some injury to the brain. I must not ask him, for fear I shall do more
harm than good, but I must somehow learn the facts of his journey
abroad.The time is come, I fear, when I must open the parcel, and know
what is written. Oh, Jonathan, you will, I know, forgive me if I do
wrong, but it is for your own dear sake.


Later.--A sad home-coming in every way, the house empty of the dear soul
who was so good to us. Jonathan still pale and dizzy under a slight
relapse of his malady, and now a telegram from Van Helsing, whoever he
may be. "You will be grieved to hear that Mrs. Westenra died five days
ago, and that Lucy died the day before yesterday. They were both buried
today."

Oh, what a wealth of sorrow in a few words! Poor Mrs. Westenra! Poor
Lucy! Gone, gone, never to return to us! And poor, poor Arthur, to have
lost such a sweetness out of his life! God help us all to bear our
troubles.


 DR. SEWARD'S DIARY-CONT.


22 September.--It is all over. Arthur has gone back to Ring, and has
taken Quincey Morris with him. What a fine fellow is Quincey! I believe
in my heart of hearts that he suffered as much about Lucy's death as any
of us,but he bore himself through it like a moral Viking. If America can
go on breeding men like that, she will be a power in the world in- deed.
Van Helsing is lying down, having a rest preparatory to his journey. He
goes to Amsterdam tonight, but says he returns tomorrow night, that he
only wants to make some arrangements which can only be made personally.
He is to stop with me then, if he can. He says he has work to do in
London which may take him some time. Poor old fellow! I fear that the
strain of the past week has broken down even his iron strength.All the
time of the burial he was, I could see, putting some terrible restraint
on himself. When it was all over, we were standing beside Arthur, who,
poor fellow, was speaking of his part in the operation where his blood
had been transfused to his Lucy's veins. I could see Van Hel- sing's
face grow white and purple by turns. Arthur was saying that he felt
since then as if they two had been really married,and that she was his
wife in the sight of God. None of us said a word of the other
operations, and none of us ever shall. Arthur and Quincey went away
together to the station, and Van Helsing and I came on here. The moment
we were alone in the carriage he gave way to a regular fit of hysterics.
He has denied to me since that it was hysterics, and insisted that it
was only his sense of humor asserting itself under very terrible
conditions. He laughed till he cried, and I had to draw down the blinds
lest any one should see us and misjudge.And then he cried, till he
laughed again, and laughed and cried together, just as a woman does.I
tried to be stern with him, as one is to a woman under the circum-
stances, but it had no effect.Men and women are so different in
manifestations of nervous strength or weakness! Then when his face grew
grave and stern again I asked him why his mirth, and why at such a time.
His reply was in a way char- acteristic of him, for it was logical and
forceful and mys- terious. He said,

"Ah, you don't comprehend, friend John. Do not think that I am not sad,
though I laugh. See, I have cried even when the laugh did choke me. But
no more think that I am all sorry when I cry, for the laugh he come just
the same. Keep it always with you that laughter who knock at your door
and say, `May I come in?' is not true laughter. No! He is a king, and he
come when and how he like.He ask no person, he choose no time of
suitability. He say, `I am here.' Behold, in ex- ample I grieve my heart
out for that so sweet young girl. I give my blood for her,though I am
old and worn. I give my time, my skill, my sleep. I let my other
sufferers want that she may have all. And yet I can laugh at her very
grave, laugh when the clay from the spade of the sexton drop upon her
coffin and say `Thud, thud!' to my heart, till it send back the blood
from my cheek. My heart bleed for that poor boy, that dear boy, so of
the age of mine own boy had I been so blessed that he live, and with his
hair and eyes the same.

"There, you know now why I love him so. And yet when he say things that
touch my husband-heart to the quick, and make my father-heart yearn to
him as to no other man, not even you, friend John, for we are more level
in experiences than father and son, yet even at such a moment King Laugh
he come to me and shout and bellow in my ear,`Here I am! Here I am!'
till the blood come dance back and bring some of the sunshine that he
carry with him to my cheek.Oh, friend John, it is a strange world, a sad
world,a world full of miseries, and woes, and troubles.And yet when King
Laugh come, he make them all dance to the tune he play. Bleeding hearts,
and dry bones of the churchyard, and tears that burn as they fall, all
dance together to the music that he make with that smile- less mouth of
him. And believe me, friend John, that he is good to come, and kind. Ah,
we men and women are like ropes drawn tight with strain that pull us
different ways. Then tears come, and like the rain on the ropes, they
brace us up, until perhaps the strain become too great, and we break.
But King Laugh he come like the sunshine, and he ease off the strain
again, and we bear to go on with our labor, what it may be."

I did not like to wound him by pretending not to see his idea, but as I
did not yet understand the cause of his laughter, I asked him. As he
answered me his face grew stern, and he said in quite a different tone,

"Oh,it was the grim irony of it all,this so lovely lady garlanded with
flowers,that looked so fair as life, till one by one we wondered if she
were truly dead, she laid in that so fine marble house in that lonely
churchyard,where rest so many of her kin, laid there with the mother who
loved her, and whom she loved, and that sacred bell going "Toll! Toll!
Toll!' so sad and slow, and those holy men, with the white garments of
the angel, pretending to read books, and yet all the time their eyes
never on the page,and all of us with the bowed head. And all for what?
She is dead, so! Is it not?"

"Well, for the life of me, Professor," I said, "I can't see anything to
laugh at in all that. Why, your expression makes it a harder puzzle than
before. But even if the burial service was comic, what about poor Art
and his trouble? Why his heart was simply breaking."

"Just so. Said he not that the transfusion of his blood to her veins had
made her truly his bride?"

"Yes, and it was a sweet and comforting idea for him."

"Quite so. But there was a difficulty, friend John. If so that, then
what about the others? Ho, ho! Then this so sweet maid is a
polyandrist,and me,with my poor wife dead to me, but alive by Church's
law,though no wits, all gone, even I, who am faithful husband to this
now-no-wife,am bigamist."

"I don't see where the joke comes in there either!" I said, and I did
not feel particularly pleased with him for saying such things. He laid
his hand on my arm, and said,

"Friend John, forgive me if I pain. I showed not my feeling to others
when it would wound, but only to you, my old friend, whom I can trust.
If you could have looked in- to my heart then when I want to laugh,if
you could have done so when the laugh arrived, if you could do so now,
when King Laugh have pack up his crown, and all that is to him, for he
go far, far away from me, and for a long, long time, maybe you would
perhaps pity me the most of all."

I was touched by the tenderness of his tone, and asked why.

"Because I know!"

And now we are all scattered, and for many a long day loneliness will
sit over our roofs with brooding wings. Lucy lies in the tomb of her
kin,a lordly death house in a lonely churchyard, away from teeming
London, where the air is fresh, and the sun rises over Hampstead
Hill,and where wild flowers grow of their own accord.

So I can finish this diary, and God only knows if I shall ever begin
another. If I do, or if I even open this again, it will be to deal with
different people and differ- ent themes,for here at the end, where the
romance of my life is told, ere I go back to take up the thread of my
life-work, I say sadly and without hope, "FINIS".

 THE WESTMINSTER GAZETTE, 25 SEPTEMBER
 A HAMPSTEAD MYSTERY


The neighborhood of Hampstead is just at present exer- cised with a
series of events which seem to run on lines parallel to those of what
was known to the writers of head- lines and "The Kensington Horror," or
"The Stabbing Woman," or "The Woman in Black." During the past two or
three days several cases have occurred of young children straying from
home or neglecting to return from their playing on the Heath. In all
these cases the children were too young to give any properly
intelligible account of themselves, but the consen- sus of their excuses
is that they had been with a "bloofer lady." It has always been late in
the evening when they have been missed, and on two occasions the
children have not been found until early in the following morning. It is
generally supposed in the neighborhood that, as the first child missed
gave as his reason for being away that a "bloofer lady" had asked him to
come for a walk,the others had picked up the phrase and used it as
occasion served. This is the more nat- ural as the favorite game of the
little ones at present is luring each other away by wiles. A
correspondent writes us that to see some of the tiny tots pretending to
be the"bloo- fer lady" is supremely funny.Some of our caricaturists
might, he says,take a lesson in the irony of grotesque by comparing the
reality and the picture. It is only in accordance with general
principles of human nature that the "bloofer lady" should be the popular
role at these al fresco performances. Our correspondent naively says
that even Ellen Terry could not be so winningly attractive as some of
these grubby-faced little children pretend, and even imagine themselves,
to be.

There is, however, possibly a serious side to the ques- tion, for some
of the children, indeed all who have been missed at night, have been
slightly torn or wounded in the throat. The wounds seem such as might be
made by a rat or a small dog, and although of not much importance
individually, would tend to show that whatever animal inflicts them has
a system or method of its own. The police of the division have been
instructed to keep a sharp lookout for straying children, especially
when very young, in and around Hamp- stead Heath, and for any stray dog
which may be about.

 THE WESTMINSTER GAZETTE, 25 SEPTEMBER
 EXTRA SPECIAL

THE HAMPSTEAD HORROR


 ANOTHER CHILD INJURED

THE "BLOOFER LADY"


We have just received intelligence that another child, missed last
night, was only discovered late in the morning under a furze bush at the
Shooter's Hill side of Hampstead Heath, which is perhaps,less frequented
than the other parts. It has the same tiny wound in the throat as has
been noticed in other cases. It was terribly weak, and looked quite ema-
ciated.It too, when partially restored, had the common story to tell of
being lured away by the "bloofer lady".


CHAPTER 14


   MINA HARKER'S JOURNAL


23 September.--Jonathan is better after a bad night. I am so glad that
he has plenty of work to do, for that keeps his mind off the terrible
things, and oh, I am rejoiced that he is not now weighed down with the
responsibility of his new position. I knew he would be true to himself,
and now how proud I am to see my Jonathan rising to the height of his
advancement and keeping pace in all ways with the duties that come upon
him. He will be away all day till late, for he said he could not lunch
at home. My household work is done, so I shall take his foreign journal,
and lock myself up in my room and read it.


24 September.--I hadn't the heart to write last night, that terrible
record of Jonathan's upset me so. Poor dear! How he must have suffered,
whether it be true or only imag- ination. I wonder if there is any truth
in it at all. Did he get his brain fever, and then write all those
terrible things, or had he some cause for it all? I suppose I shall
never know, for I dare not open the subject to him. And yet that man we
saw yesterday! He seemed quite certain of him, poor fellow! I suppose it
was the funeral upset him and sent his mind back on some train of
thought.

He believes it all himself. I remember how on our wedd- ing day he said
"Unless some solemn duty come upon me to go back to the bitter hours,
asleep or awake, mad or sane . . ." There seems to be through it all
some thread of continuity. That fearful Count was coming to London. If
it should be, and he came to London, with its teeming millions . . .
There may be a solemn duty, and if it come we must not shrink from it. I
shall be prepared. I shall get my typewriter this very hour and begin
transcribing.Then we shall be ready for other eyes if required. And if
it be wanted, then, perhaps, if I am ready, poor Jonathan may not be
upset,for I can speak for him and never let him be troubled or worried
with it at all. If ever Jonathan quite gets over the nervousness he may
want to tell me of it all, and I can ask him questions and find out
things, and see how I may comfort him.

 LETTER, VAN HELSING TO MRS. HARKER


 24 September

 (Confidence)

"Dear Madam,

"I pray you to pardon my writing, in that I am so far friend as that I
sent to you sad news of Miss Lucy Westenra's death. By the kindness of
Lord Godalming, I am empowered to read her letters and papers, for I am
deeply concerned about certain matters vitally important. In them I find
some letters from you, which show how great friends you were and how you
love her. Oh, Madam Mina, by that love, I implore you, help me. It is
for others' good that I ask, to redress great wrong, and to lift much
and terrible troubles, that may be more great than you can know. May it
be that I see you? You can trust me. I am friend of Dr. John Seward and
of Lord Godalming (that was Arthur of Miss Lucy). I must keep it private
for the present from all. I should come to Exeter to see you at once if
you tell me I am privilege to come, and where and when. I implore your
pardon, Madam. I have read your letters to poor Lucy, and know how good
you are and how your husband suffer. So I pray you, if it may be,
enlighten him not, least it may harm. Again your pardon, and forgive me.

 "VAN HELSING"

 TELEGRAM, MRS. HARKER TO VAN HELSING


25 September.--Come today by quarter past ten train if you can catch it.
Can see you any time you call.
 "WILHELMINA HARKER"

 MINA HARKER'S JOURNAL


25 September.--I cannot help feeling terribly excited as the time draws
near for the visit of Dr. Van Helsing, for somehow I expect that it will
throw some light upon Jona- than's sad experience, and as he attended
poor dear Lucy in her last illness, he can tell me all about her. That
is the reason of his coming. It is concerning Lucy and her sleep-
walking, and not about Jonathan. Then I shall never know the real truth
now! How silly I am. That awful journal gets hold of my imagination and
tinges everything with something of its own color. Of course it is about
Lucy. That habit came back to the poor dear,and that awful night on the
cliff must have made her ill. I had almost forgotten in my own affairs
how ill she was afterwards. She must have told him of her sleep-walking
adventure on the cliff, and that I knew all about it, and now he wants
me to tell him what I know,so that he may understand. I hope I did right
in not saying anything of it to Mrs. Westenra. I should never forgive
my- self if any act of mine, were it even a negative one,brought harm on
poor dear Lucy. I hope too,Dr. Van Helsing will not blame me. I have had
so much trouble and anxiety of late that I feel I cannot bear more just
at present.

I suppose a cry does us all good at times, clears the air as other rain
does. Perhaps it was reading the journal yesterday that upset me, and
then Jonathan went away this morning to stay away from me a whole day
and night,the first time we have been parted since our marriage. I do
hope the dear fellow will take care of himself, and that nothing will
occur to upset him. It is two o'clock, and the doctor will be here soon
now. I shall say nothing of Jonathan's journal unless he asks me. I am
so glad I have typewritten out my own journal, so that, in case he asks
about Lucy, I can hand it to him. It will save much questioning.

Later.--He has come and gone. Oh, what a strange meet- ing, and how it
all makes my head whirl round. I feel like one in a dream.Can it be all
possible, or even a part of it? If I had not read Jonathan's journal
first, I should never have accepted even a possibility. Poor, poor, dear
Jonathan! How he must have suffered. Please the good God, all this may
not upset him again. I shall try to save him from it. But it may be even
a consolation and a help to him, terrible though it be and awful in its
consequences, to know for cer- tain that his eyes and ears and brain did
not deceive him, and that it is all true.It may be that it is the doubt
which haunts him, that when the doubt is removed, no matter which,
waking or dreaming, may prove the truth, he will be more satisfied and
better able to bear the shock. Dr. Van Helsing must be a good man as
well as a clever one if he is Arthur's friend and Dr. Seward's, and if
they brought him all the way from Holland to look after Lucy. I feel
from having seen him that he is good and kind and of a noble nature.
When he comes tomorrow I shall ask him about Jonathan. And then, please
God, all this sorrow and anxiety may lead to a good end. I used to think
I would like to practice interviewing. Jonathan's friend on "The Exeter
News" told him that memory is everything in such work, that you must be
able to put down exactly almost every word spoken, even if you had to
refine some of it afterwards. Here was a rare interview. I shall try to
record it verbatim.

It was half-past two o'clock when the knock came. I took my courage a
deux mains and waited. In a few minutes Mary opened the door, and
announced "Dr. Van Helsing".

I rose and bowed, and he came towards me, a man of med- ium weight,
strongly built, with his shoulders set back over a broad, deep chest and
a neck well balanced on the trunk as the head is on the neck. The poise
of the head strikes me at once as indicative of thought and power. The
head is noble, well-sized, broad, and large behind the ears.The face,
clean- shaven, shows a hard, square chin, a large resolute, mobile
mouth, a good-sized nose, rather straight, but with quick, sensitive
nostrils, that seem to broaden as the big bushy brows come down and the
mouth tightens.The forehead is broad and fine, rising at first almost
straight and then sloping back above two bumps or ridges wide apart,
such a forehead that the reddish hair cannot possibly tumble over it,
but falls naturally back and to the sides. Big, dark blue eyes are set
widely apart, and are quick and tender or stern with the man's moods. He
said to me,

"Mrs. Harker, is it not?" I bowed assent.

"That was Miss Mina Murray?" Again I assented.

"It is Mina Murray that I came to see that was friend of that poor dear
child Lucy Westenra. Madam Mina, it is on account of the dead that I
come."

"Sir," I said, "you could have no better claim on me than that you were
a friend and helper of Lucy Westenra."And I held out my hand. He took it
and said tenderly,

"Oh, Madam Mina, I know that the friend of that poor little girl must be
good, but I had yet to learn . . ." He finished his speech with a
courtly bow. I asked him what it was that he wanted to see me about, so
he at once began.

"I have read your letters to Miss Lucy. Forgive me, but I had to begin
to inquire somewhere, and there was none to ask. I know that you were
with her at Whitby. She sometimes kept a diary, you need not look
surprised, Madam Mina. It was begun after you had left, and was an
imitation of you, and in that diary she traces by inference certain
things to a sleep-walking in which she puts down that you saved her.In
great perplexity then I come to you, and ask you out of your so much
kindness to tell me all of it that you can remember."

"I can tell you, I think, Dr. Van Helsing, all about it."

"Ah, then you have good memory for facts, for details? It is not always
so with young ladies."

"No, doctor, but I wrote it all down at the time. I can show it to you
if you like."

"Oh, Madam Mina, I well be grateful.You will do me much favor."

I could not resist the temptation of mystifying him a bit, I suppose it
is some taste of the original apple that remains still in our mouths, so
I handed him the shorthand diary. He took it with a grateful bow, and
said, "May I read it?"

"If you wish," I answered as demurely as I could. He opened it, and for
an instant his face fell. Then he stood up and bowed.

"Oh, you so clever woman!" he said. "I knew long that Mr. Jonathan was a
man of much thankfulness, but see, his wife have all the good things.And
will you not so much honor me and so help me as to read it for me? Alas!
I know not the shorthand."

By this time my little joke was over, and I was almost ashamed. So I
took the typewritten copy from my work basket and handed it to him.

"Forgive me," I said. "I could not help it, but I had been thinking that
it was of dear Lucy that you wished to ask, and so that you might not
have time to wait, not on my account, but because I know your time must
be precious, I have written it out on the typewriter for you."

He took it and his eyes glistened. "You are so good," he said. "And may
I read it now? I may want to ask you some things when I have read."

"By all means," I said. "read it over whilst I order lunch, and then you
can ask me questions whilst we eat."

He bowed and settled himself in a chair with his back to the light, and
became so absorbed in the papers, whilst I went to see after lunch
chiefly in order that he might not be disturbed. When I came back, I
found him walking hurried- ly up and down the room, his face all ablaze
with excitement. He rushed up to me and took me by both hands.

"Oh, Madam Mina," he said, "how can I say what I owe to you? This paper
is as sunshine. It opens the gate to me. I am dazed, I am dazzled, with
so much light, and yet clouds roll in behind the light every time. But
that you do not, cannot comprehend. Oh, but I am grateful to you, you so
clever woman. Madame," he said this very solemnly, "if ever Abraham Van
Helsing can do anything for you or yours,I trust you will let me know.
It will be pleasure and delight if I may serve you as a friend, as a
friend, but all I have ever learned, all I can ever do, shall be for you
and those you love. There are darknesses in life, and there are lights.
You are one of the lights. You will have a happy life and a good life,
and your husband will be blessed in you."

"But, doctor, you praise me too much, and you do not know me."

"Not know you, I, who am old, and who have studied all my life men and
women, I who have made my specialty the brain and all that belongs to
him and all that follow from him! And I have read your diary that you
have so goodly written for me, and which breathes out truth in every
line. I, who have read your so sweet letter to poor Lucy of your
marriage and your trust, not know you! Oh, Madam Mina, good women tell
all their lives, and by day and by hour and by minute, such things that
angels can read. And we men who wish to know have in us something of
angels' eyes. Your husband is noble nature, and you are noble too, for
you trust, and trust cannot be where there is mean nature. And your
husband, tell me of him. Is he quite well? Is all that fever gone, and
is he strong and hearty?"

I saw here an opening to ask him about Jonathan, so I said,"He was
almost recovered, but he has been greatly upset by Mr. Hawkins death."

He interrupted, "Oh, yes. I know. I know. I have read your last two
letters."

I went on, "I suppose this upset him, for when we were in town on
Thursday last he had a sort of shock."

"A shock, and after brain fever so soon! That is not good. What kind of
shock was it?"

"He thought he saw some one who recalled something terrible, something
which led to his brain fever." And here the whole thing seemed to
overwhelm me in a rush. The pity for Jonathan, the horror which he
experienced, the whole fearful mystery of his diary, and the fear that
has been brooding over me ever since, all came in a tumult. I suppose I
was hysterical, for I threw myself on my knees and held up my hands to
him, and implored him to make my husband well again. He took my hands
and raised me up, and made me sit on the sofa, and sat by me. He held my
hand in his, and said to me with, oh, such infinite sweetness,

"My life is a barren and lonely one,and so full of work that I have not
had much time for friendships, but since I have been summoned to here by
my friend John Seward I have known so many good people and seen such
nobility that I feel more than ever, and it has grown with my advancing
years, the loneliness of my life. Believe me, then, that I come here
full of respect for you, and you have given me hope, hope, not in what I
am seeking of, but that there are good women still left to make life
happy, good women, whose lives and whose truths may make good lesson for
the children that are to be. I am glad, glad, that I may here be of some
use to you. For if your husband suffer, he suffer within the range of my
study and experience. I promise you that I will gladly do all for him
that I can,all to make his life strong and manly, and your life a happy
one. Now you must eat. You are over-wrought and perhaps over-anxious.
Husband Jonathan would not like to see you so pale,and what he like not
where he love, is not to his good. Therefore for his sake you must eat
and smile. You have told me about Lucy, and so now we shall not speak of
it, lest it distress. I shall stay in Ex- eter tonight, for I want to
think much over what you have told me, and when I have thought I will
ask you questions,if I may. And then too, you will tell me of husband
Jonathan's trouble so far as you can, but not yet. You must eat now,
afterwards you shall tell me all."

After lunch, when we went back to the drawing room, he said to me, "And
now tell me all about him."

When it came to speaking to this great learned man, I began to fear that
he would think me a weak fool, and Jona- than a madman, that journal is
all so strange, and I hesi- tated to go on. But he was so sweet and
kind, and he had promised to help, and I trusted him, so I said,

"Dr. Van Helsing, what I have to tell you is so queer that you must not
laugh at me or at my husband. I have been since yesterday in a sort of
fever of doubt. You must be kind to me, and not think me foolish that I
have even half believed some very strange things."

He reassured me by his manner as well as his words when he said, "Oh, my
dear, if you only know how strange is the matter regarding which I am
here, it is you who would laugh. I have learned not to think little of
any one's belief, no matter how strange it may be. I have tried to keep
an open mind, and it is not the ordinary things of life that could close
it, but the strange things, the extraordinary things, the things that
make one doubt if they be mad or sane."

"Thank you, thank you a thousand times! You have taken a weight off my
mind. If you will let me, I shall give you a paper to read. It is long,
but I have typewritten it out. It will tell you my trouble and
Jonathan's.It is the copy of his journal when abroad, and all that
happened. I dare not say anything of it. You will read for yourself and
judge. And then when I see you, perhaps, you will be very kind and tell
me what you think."

"I promise," he said as I gave him the papers. "I shall in the morning,
as soon as I can, come to see you and your husband, if I may."

"Jonathan will be here at half-past eleven,and you must come to lunch
with us and see him then. You could catch the quick 3:34 train, which
will leave you at Paddington before eight." He was surprised at my
knowledge of the trains off- hand,but he does not know that I have made
up all the trains to and from Exeter,so that I may help Jonathan in case
he is in a hurry.

So he took the papers with him and went away, and I sit here thinking,
thinking I don't know what.

LETTER (by hand), VAN HELSING TO MRS. HARKER


 25 September, 6 o'clock

"Dear Madam Mina,

"I have read your husband's so wonderful diary. You may sleep without
doubt. Strange and terrible as it is, it is true! I will pledge my life
on it.It may be worse for others, but for him and you there is no dread.
He is a noble fellow, and let me tell you from experience of men, that
one who would do as he did in going down that wall and to that room,
aye, and going a second time, is not one to be injured in permanence by
a shock.His brain and his heart are all right, this I swear, before I
have even seen him, so be at rest. I shall have much to ask him of other
things.I am blessed that today I come to see you,for I have learn all at
once so much that again I am dazzled, dazzled more than ever, and I must
think.

"Yours the most faithful,

"Abraham Van Helsing."


LETTER, MRS. HARKER TO VAN HELSING


 25 September, 6:30 p.m.

"My dear Dr. Van Helsing,

"A thousand thanks for your kind letter,which has taken a great weight
off my mind. And yet, if it be true, what terrible things there are in
the world, and what an awful thing if that man, that monster, be really
in London! I fear to think. I have this moment, whilst writing, had a
wire from Jonathan,saying that he leaves by the 6:25 tonight from
Launceston and will be here at 10:18,so that I shall have no fear
tonight. Will you, therefore, instead of lunching with us, please come
to breakfast at eight o'clock,if this be not too early for you? You can
get away, if you are in a hurry, by the 10:30 train, which will bring
you to Paddington by 2:35. Do not answer this, as I shall take it that,
if I do not hear, you will come to breakfast.

"Believe me,

"Your faithful and grateful friend,

"Mina Harker."


 JONATHAN HARKER'S JOURNAL


26 September.--I thought never to write in this diary again, but the
time has come. When I got home last night Mina had supper ready, and
when we had supped she told me of Van Helsing's visit, and of her having
given him the two diaries copied out, and of how anxious she has been
about me. She showed me in the doctor's letter that all I wrote down was
true. It seems to have made a new man of me. It was the doubt as to the
reality of the whole thing that knocked me over. I felt impotent, and in
the dark, and distrustful. But, now that I know, I am not afraid, even
of the Count. He has succeeded after all, then, in his design in getting
to Lond- on, and it was he I saw. He has got younger, and how? Van
Helsing is the man to unmask him and hunt him out, if he is anything
like what Mina says. We sat late, and talked it over. Mina is dressing,
and I shall call at the hotel in a few minutes and bring him over.


He was, I think, surprised to see me. When I came into the room whee he
was, and introduced myself, he took me by the shoulder, and turned my
face round to the light, and said, after a sharp scrutiny,

"But Madam Mina told me you were ill, that you had had a shock."

It was so funny to hear my wife called `Madam Mina' by this kindly,
strong-faced old man. I smiled, and said, "I was ill, I have had a
shock, but you have cured me already."

"And how?"

"By your letter to Mina last night. I was in doubt, and then everything
took a hue of unreality, and I did not know what to trust, even the
evidence of my own senses. Not know- ing what to trust, I did not know
what to do,and so had only to keep on working in what had hitherto been
the groove of my life. The groove ceased to avail me, and I mistrusted
myself.Doctor, you don't know what it is to doubt everything, even
yourself. No, you don't, you couldn't with eyebrows like yours."

He seemed pleased, and laughed as he said, "So! You are a physiognomist.
I learn more here with each hour. I am with so much pleasure coming to
you to breakfast, and, oh, sir, you will pardon praise from an old man,
but you are blessed in your wife."

I would listen to him go on praising Mina for a day, so I simply nodded
and stood silent.

"She is one of God's women,fashioned by His own hand to show us men and
other women that there is a heaven where we can enter, and that its
light can be here on earth. So true, so sweet, so noble, so little an
egoist, and that, let me tell you, is much in this age, so sceptical and
selfish. And you, sir. . . I have read all the letters to poor Miss
Lucy, and some of them speak of you, so I know you since some days from
the knowing of others, but I have seen your true self since last night.
You will give me your hand, will you not? And let us be friends for all
our lives."

We shook hands, and he was so earnest and so kind that it made me quite
choky.

"and now," he said, "may I ask you for some more help? I have a great
task to do, and at the beginning it is to know. You can help me here.
Can you tell me what went be- fore your going to Transylvania? Later on
I may ask more help, and of a different kind, but at first this will
do."

"Look here, Sir," I said, "does what you have to do concern the Count?"

"It does," he said solemnly."

"Then I am with you heart and soul. As you go by the 10:30 train, you
will not have time to read them, but I shall get the bundle of papers.
You can take them with you and read them in the train."

After breakfast I saw him to the station. When we were parting he said,
"Perhaps you will come to town if I send for you, and take Madam Mina
too."

"We shall both come when you will," I said.

I had got him the morning papers and the London papers of the previous
night, and while we were talking at the carriage window, waiting for the
train to start, he was turn- ing them over. His eyes suddenly seemed to
catch something in one of them, "The Westminster Gazette", I knew it by
the color, and he grew quite white. He read something intently, groaning
to himself, "Mein Gott! Mein Gott! So soon! So soon!" I do not think he
remembered me at the moment. Just then the whistle blew, and the train
moved off.This recalled him to himself, and he leaned out of the window
and waved his hand, calling out, "Love to Madam Mina. I shall write so
soon as ever I can."

 DR. SEWARD'S DIARY


26 September.--Truly there is no such thing as finality. Not a week
since I said "Finis," and yet here I am starting fresh again, or rather
going on with the record. Until this afternoon I had no cause to think
of what is done. Renfield had become, to all intents, as sane as he ever
was. He was already well ahead with his fly business, and he had just
started in the spider line also, so he had not been of any trouble to
me. I had a letter from Arthur, written on Sun- day, and from it I
gather that he is bearing up wonderfully well. Quincey Morris is with
him, and that is much of a help, for he himself is a bubbling well of
good spirits. Quincey wrote me a line too, and from him I hear that
Arthur is beginning to recover something of his old buoyancy, so as to
them all my mind is at rest. As for myself, I was sett- ling down to my
work with the enthusiasm which I used to have for it, so that I might
fairly have said that the wound which poor Lucy left on me was becoming
cicatrised.

Everything is, however, now reopened, and what is to be the end God only
knows. I have an idea that Van Helsing thinks he knows, too, but he will
only let out enough at a time to whet curiosity. He went to Exeter
yesterday, and stayed there all night. Today he came back, and almost
bounded into the room at about half-past five o'clock, and thrust last
night's "Westminster Gazette" into my hand.

"What do you think of that?" he asked as he stood back and folded his
arms.

I looked over the paper, for I really did not know what he meant, but he
took it from me and pointed out a paragraph about children being decoyed
away at Hampstead. It did not convey much to me, until I reached a
passage where it des- cribed small puncture wounds on their throats.An
idea struck me, and I looked up.

"Well?" he said.

"It is like poor Lucy's."

"And what do you make of it?"

"Simply that there is some cause in common. Whatever it was that injured
her has injured them." I did not quite understand his answer.

"That is true indirectly, but not directly."

"How do you mean, Professor?" I asked. I was a little inclined to take
his seriousness lightly, for, after all, four days of rest and freedom
from burning, harrowing, anx- iety does help to restore one's spirits,
but when I saw his face, it sobered me. Never, even in the midst of our
des- pair about poor Lucy, had he looked more stern.

"Tell me!" I said. "I can hazard no opinion. I do not know what to
think, and I have no data on which to found a conjecture."

"Do you mean to tell me, friend John, that you have no suspicion as to
what poor Lucy died of, not after all the hints given, not only by
events, but by me?"

"Of nervous prostration following a great loss or waste of blood."

"And how was the blood lost or wasted?" I shook my head.

He stepped over and sat down beside me, and went on,"You are a clever
man, friend John. You reason well, and your wit is bold, but you are too
prejudiced. You do not let your eyes see nor your ears hear, and that
which is outside your daily life is not of account to you. Do you not
think that there are things which you cannot understand,and yet which
are,that some people see things that others cannot? But there are things
old and new which must not be contemplated by men's eyes, because they
know, or think they know,some things which other men have told them. Ah,
it is the fault of our science that it wants to explain all, and if it
explain not, then it says there is nothing to explain. But yet we see
around us every day the growth of new beliefs, which think themselves
new, and which are yet but the old, which pretend to be young, like the
fine ladies at the opera. I suppose now you do not believe in corporeal
transference. No? Nor in materialization. No? Nor in astral bodies. No?
Nor in the reading of thought. No? Nor in hypnotism . . ."

"Yes," I said. "Charcot has proved that pretty well."

He smiled as he went on, "Then you are satisfied as to it. Yes? And of
course then you understand how it act, and can follow the mind of the
great Charcot, alas that he is no more, into the very soul of the
patient that he influence.No? Then, friend John,am I to take it that you
simply accept fact, and are satisfied to let from premise to conclusion
be a blank? No? Then tell me, for I am a student of the brain, how you
accept hypnotism and reject the thought reading. Let me tell you, my
friend, that there are things done today in electrical science which
would have been deemed unholy by the very man who discovered
electricity, who would themselves not so long before been burned as
wizards. There are always mys- teries in life. Why was it that
Methuselah lived nine hundred years, and `Old Parr'one hundred and
sixty-nine, and yet that poor Lucy, with four men's blood in her poor
veins, could not live even one day? For, had she live one more day, we
could save her. Do you know all the mystery of life and death? Do you
know the altogether of comparative anatomy and can say wherefore the
qualities of brutes are in some men, and not in others? Can you tell me
why, when other spiders die small and soon, that one great spider lived
for centuries in the tower of the old Spanish church and grew and grew,
till, on descending, he could drink the oil of all the church lamps? Can
you tell me why in the Pampas, ay and elsewhere,there are bats that come
out at night and open the veins of cattle and horses and suck dry their
veins, how in some islands of the Western seas there are bats which hang
on the trees all day, and those who have seen describe as like giant
nuts or pods, and that when the sailors sleep on the deck, because that
it is hot, flit down on them and then, and then in the morning are found
dead men, white as even Miss Lucy was?"

"Good God, Professor!" I said, starting up. "Do you mean to tell me that
Lucy was bitten by such a bat, and that such a thing is here in London
in the nineteenth century?"

He waved his hand for silence, and went on,"Can you tell me why the
tortoise lives more long than generations of men, why the elephant goes
on and on till he have sees dynasties, and why the parrot never die only
of bite of cat of dog or other complaint? Can you tell me why men
believe in all ages and places that there are men and women who cannot
die? We all know, because science has vouched for the fact,that there
have been toads shut up in rocks for thousands of years, shut in one so
small hole that only hold him since the youth of the world. Can you tell
me how the Indian fakir can make him- self to die and have been buried,
and his grave sealed and corn sowed on it, and the corn reaped and be
cut and sown and reaped and cut again, and then men come and take away
the un- broken seal and that there lie the Indian fakir, not dead, but
that rise up and walk amongst them as before?"

Here I interrupted him. I was getting bewildered. He so crowded on my
mind his list of nature's eccentricities and possible impossibilities
that my imagination was getting fired. I had a dim idea that he was
teaching me some lesson, as long ago he used to do in his study at
Amsterdam. But he used them to tell me the thing, so that I could have
the ob- ject of thought in mind all the time. But now I was without his
help, yet I wanted to follow him, so I said,

"Professor, let me be your pet student again. Tell me the thesis, so
that I may apply your knowledge as you go on. At present I am going in
my mind from point to point as a madman, and not a sane one, follows an
idea. I feel like a novice lumbering through a bog in a midst, jumping
from one tussock to another in the mere blind effort to move on with-
out knowing where I am going."

"That is a good image," he said. "Well, I shall tell you. My thesis is
this, I want you to believe."

"To believe what?"

"To believe in things that you cannot.Let me illustrate. I heard once of
an American who so defined faith, `that fac- ulty which enables us to
believe things which we know to be untrue.' For one, I follow that man.
He meant that we shall have an open mind,and not let a little bit of
truth check the rush of the big truth,like a small rock does a railway
truck. We get the small truth first. Good! We keep him, and we value
him, but all the same we must not let him think himself all the truth in
the universe."

"Then you want me not to let some previous conviction inure the
receptivity of my mind with regard to some strange matter. Do I read
your lesson aright?"

"Ah, you are my favorite pupil still. It is worth to teach you. Now that
you are willing to understand, you have taken the first step to
understand. You think then that those so small holes in the children's
throats were made by the same that made the holes in Miss Lucy?"

"I suppose so."

He stood up and said solemnly, "Then you are wrong. Oh, would it were
so! But alas! No. It is worse, far, far worse."

"In God's name,Professor Van Helsing, what do you mean?" I cried.

He threw himself with a despairing gesture into a chair, and placed his
elbows on the table, covering his face with his hands as he spoke.

"They were made by Miss Lucy!"