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History of Literature

Bram Stoker
"Dracula"

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"Dracula"
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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
tonight 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 awfully
stuffy. There were a lot of those horrible, strongsmelling
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 breakfasted
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 seemed 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 inspiration
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 transfusion 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 provide. 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 breathing of healthy
sleep. This time I watched whilst Van Helsing recruited himself
and rested.
Presently he took an opportunity of telling Mrs. Westenra
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 terrible 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 remembrance of long, anxious times of
waiting and fearing, darkness 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 included.
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, wishful 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 `arfquid 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' yesterday
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
animiles 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
opposite 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 after the escape of the
wolf was made known, and we had been up all night a-huntin' of
the Park for Bersicker, that he remembered 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 laughed 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. Suddenly 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 carpet. 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 employment 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 prolonged
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 without 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 tonight. 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 window 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 beating
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 remove 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 decanter 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!
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Chapter 12
DR. SEWARD'S DIARY
18 September.--I drove at once to Hillingham and arrived
early. Keeping my cab at the gate, I went up the avenue alone. I
knocked gently and rang as quietly as possible, 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 stertorous 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, showing the two little wounds which we
had noticed before, but looking horribly white and mangled.
Without a word the Professor 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 decanter 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 lifted 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 crying 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 possible,
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 returned, 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 outstretched
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 improved, 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 horrible 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 present. 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 already
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 seemed 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 calculations 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 movement
was to feel in her breast, and to my surprise, produced the
paper which Van Helsing had given me to read. The careful
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 realized 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 material 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 ravages 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 sleeping 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 afternoon she asked for Arthur, and we telegraphed
for him. Quincey 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 husband 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 prosperity, 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 cathedral, 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 another
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 began to rate
him from within, and called him all the foul names he could lay
his tongue to. The man, who seemed a decent 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' madhouse. 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 followed 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 foreheads, and were flushed in the face, as if with
violent exercise. 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 attendants 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 penalties 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 occurring 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. Jonathan 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 Jonathan feels it on another
account. He says the amount of responsibility 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 handkerchief 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 uneasily. 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 struggle 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 ejaculation, "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 disappeared.
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 remained, 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 Helsing
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 sleepwaking, 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 instant 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 hurled 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 parted.
Lucy's eyes closed, and Van Helsing, who had been watching
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 drawing
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."
|

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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 funeral, 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 solicitor 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 wilderness 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 crucifix, 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 premonitory 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 believe 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 solicitor
came, Mr. Marquand, of Wholeman, Sons, Marquand & Lidderdale. 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 collision, 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 sentimental 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 undertaker, 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 adhered 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, saying 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 tightening of an
arm over the shoulder, a sob in unison, are expressions 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 seemed 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 suggest,
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 after 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 preperations 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 Helsing
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 sleeping. 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, married to Jonathan,
Jonathan a solicitor, a partner, rich, master of his business,
Mr. Hawkins dead and buried, and Jonathan with another attack
that may harm him. Some day he may ask me about it. Down it all
goes. I am rusty in my shorthand, 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 representing 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 Guiliano'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 disturbed, 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 feared to keep
his mind on the subject by asking him any questions, 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, Jonathan'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 forgetfulness. 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 indeed. 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 Helsing'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 circumstances, 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 characteristic of him, for it was logical and
forceful and mysterious. 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 example 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 smileless 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 into 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 different 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 exercised
with a series of events which seem to run on lines parallel to
those of what was known to the writers of headlines 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 consensus 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 natural 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
"bloofer 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 question,
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 Hampstead 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 emaciated. It too,
when partially restored, had the common story to tell of being
lured away by the "bloofer lady".
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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 imagination. 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 wedding 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 Jonathan'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 sleepwalking, 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
myself 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 meeting, 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 certain 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 medium
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, cleanshaven, 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 hurriedly 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 Exeter
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 Jonathan a
madman, that journal is all so strange, and I hesitated 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 offhand, 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 London, 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 knowing 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 before 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 turning 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 Sunday, 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 settling 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 described 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, anxiety does
help to restore one's spirits, but when I saw his face, it
sobered me. Never, even in the midst of our despair 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 mysteries 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 himself 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 unbroken 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 object 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 without 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!"
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Chapter 15
DR. SEWARD'S DIARY-cont.
For a while sheer anger mastered me. It was as if he had
during her life struck Lucy on the face. I smote the table hard
and rose up as I said to him, "Dr. Van Helsing, are you mad?"
He raised his head and looked at me, and somehow the
tenderness of his face calmed me at once. "Would I were!" he
said. "Madness were easy to bear compared with truth like this.
Oh, my friend, whey, think you, did I go so far round, why take
so long to tell so simple a thing? Was it because I hate you and
have hated you all my life? Was it because I wished to give you
pain? Was it that I wanted, no so late, revenge for that time
when you saved my life, and from a fearful death? Ah no!"
"Forgive me," said I.
He went on, "My friend, it was because I wished to be gentle
in the breaking to you, for I know you have loved that so sweet
lady. But even yet I do not expect you to believe. It is so hard
to accept at once any abstract truth, that we may doubt such to
be possible when we have always believed the `no' of it. It is
more hard still to accept so sad a concrete truth, and of such a
one as Miss Lucy. Tonight I go to prove it. Dare you come with
me?"
This staggered me. A man does not like to prove such a truth,
Byron excepted from the catagory, jealousy.
"And prove the very truth he most abhorred."
He saw my hesitation, and spoke, "The logic is simple, no
madman's logic this time, jumping from tussock to tussock in a
misty bog. If it not be true, then proof will be relief. At
worst it will not harm. If it be true! Ah, there is the dread.
Yet every dread should help my cause, for in it is some need of
belief. Come, I tell you what I propose. First, that we go off
now and see that child in the hospital. Dr. Vincent, of the
North Hospital, where the papers say the child is, is a friend
of mine, and I think of yours since you were in class at
Amsterdam. He will let two scientists see his case, if he will
not let two friends. We shall tell him nothing, but only that we
wish to learn. And then . . ."
"And then?"
He took a key from his pocket and held it up. "And then we
spend the night, you and I, in the churchyard where Lucy lies.
This is the key that lock the tomb. I had it from the coffin man
to give to Arthur."
My heart sank within me, for I felt that there was some
fearful ordeal before us. I could do nothing, however, so I
plucked up what heart I could and said that we had better
hasten, as the afternoon was passing.
We found the child awake. It had had a sleep and taken some
food, and altogether was going on well. Dr, Vincent took the
bandage from its throat, and showed us the punctures. There was
no mistaking the similarity to those which had been on Lucy's
throat. They were smaller, and the edges looked fresher, that
was all. We asked Vincent to what he attributed them, and he
replied that it must have been a bite of some animal, perhaps a
rat, but for his own part, he was inclined to think it was one
of the bats which are so numerous on the northern heights of
London. "Out of so many harmless ones," he said, "there may be
some wild specimen from the South of a more malignant species.
Some sailor may have brought one home, and it managed to escape,
or even from the Zoological Gardens a young one may have got
loose, or one be bred there from a vampire. These things do
occur, you, know. Only ten days ago a wolf got out, and was, I
believe, traced up in this direction. For a week after, the
children were playing nothing but Red Riding Hood on the Heath
and in every alley in the place until this `bloofer lady' scare
came along, since then it has been quite a gala time with them.
Even this poor little mite, when he woke up today, asked the
nurse if he might go away. When she asked him why he wanted to
go, he said he wanted to play with the `bloofer lady'."
"I hope," said Van Helsing, "that when you are sending the
child home you will caution its parents to keep strict watch
over it. These fancies to stray are most dangerous, and if the
child were to remain out another night, it would probably be
fatal. But in any case I suppose you will not let it away for
some days?"
"Certainly not, not for a week at least, longer if the wound
is not healed."
Our visit to the hospital took more time than we had reckoned
on, and the sun had dipped before we came out. When Van Helsing
saw how dark it was, he said,
"There is not hurry. It is more late than I thought. Come,
let us seek somewhere that we may eat, and then we shall go on
our way."
We dined at `Jack Straw's Castle' along with a little crowd
of bicyclists and others who were genially noisy. About ten
o'clock we started from the inn. It was then very dark, and the
scattered lamps made the darkness greater when we were once
outside their individual radius. The Professor had evidently
noted the road we were to go, for he went on unhesitatingly,
but, as for me, I was in quite a mixup as to locality. As we
went further, we met fewer and fewer people, till at last we
were somewhat surprised when we met even the patrol of horse
police going their usual suburban round. At last we reached the
wall of the churchyard, which we climbed over. With some little
difficulty, for it was very dark, and the whole place seemed so
strange to us, we found the Westenra tomb. The Professor took
the key, opened the creaky door, and standing back, politely,
but quite unconsciously, motioned me to precede him. There was a
delicious irony in the offer, in the courtliness of giving
preference on such a ghastly occasion. My companion followed me
quickly, and cautiously drew the door to, after carefully
ascertaining that the lock was a falling, and not a spring one.
In the latter case we should have been in a bad plight. Then he
fumbled in his bag, and taking out a matchbox and a piece of
candle, proceeded to make a light. The tomb in the daytime, and
when wreathed with fresh flowers, had looked grim and gruesome
enough, but now, some days afterwards, when the flowers hung
lank and dead, their whites turning to rust and their greens to
browns, when the spider and the beetle had resumed their
accustomed dominance, when the time-discolored stone, and
dust-encrusted mortar, and rusty, dank iron, and tarnished
brass, and clouded silver-plating gave back the feeble glimmer
of a candle, the effect was more miserable and sordid than could
have been imagined. It conveyed irresistibly the idea that life,
animal life, was not the only thing which could pass away.
Van Helsing went about his work systematically. Holding his
candle so that he could read the coffin plates, and so holding
it that the sperm dropped in white patches which congealed as
they touched the metal, he made assurance of Lucy's coffin.
Another search in his bag, and he took out a turnscrew.
"What are you going to do?" I asked.
"To open the coffin. You shall yet be convinced."
Straightway he began taking out the screws, and finally
lifted off the lid, showing the casing of lead beneath. The
sight was almost too much for me. It seemed to be as much an
affront to the dead as it would have been to have stripped off
her clothing in her sleep whilst living. I actually took hold of
his hand to stop him.
He only said, "You shall see,"and again fumbling in his bag
took out a tiny fret saw. Striking the turnscrew through the
lead with a swift downward stab, which made me wince, he made a
small hole, which was, however, big enough to admit the point of
the saw. I had expected a rush of gas from the week-old corpse.
We doctors, who have had to study our dangers, have to become
accustomed to such things, and I drew back towards the door. But
the Professor never stopped for a moment. He sawed down a couple
of feet along one side of the lead coffin, and then across, and
down the other side. Taking the edge of the loose flange, he
bent it back towards the foot of the coffin, and holding up the
candle into the aperture, motioned to me to look.
I drew near and looked. The coffin was empty. It was
certainly a surprise to me, and gave me a considerable shock,
but Van Helsing was unmoved. He was now more sure than ever of
his ground, and so emboldened to proceed in his task."Are you
satisfied now, friend John?" he asked.
I felt all the dogged argumentativeness of my nature awake
within me as I answered him, "I am satisfied that Lucy's body is
not in that coffin, but that only proves one thing."
"And what is that, friend John?"
"That it is not there."
"That is good logic," he said, "so far as it goes. But how do
you, how can you, account for it not being there?"
"Perhaps a body-snatcher," I suggested. "Some of the
undertaker's people may have stolen it." I felt that I was
speaking folly, and yet it was the only real cause which I could
suggest.
The Professor sighed. "Ah well!" he said," we must have more
proof. Come with me."
He put on the coffin lid again, gathered up all his things
and placed them in the bag, blew out the light, and placed the
candle also in the bag. We opened the door, and went out. Behind
us he closed the door and locked it. He handed me the key,
saying, "Will you keep it? You had better be assured."
I laughed, it was not a very cheerful laugh, I am bound to
say, as I motioned him to keep it. "A key is nothing," I said,
"thee are many duplicates, and anyhow it is not difficult to
pick a lock of this kind."
He said nothing, but put the key in his pocket. Then he told
me to watch at one side of the churchyard whilst he would watch
at the other.
I took up my place behind a yew tree, and I saw his dark
figure move until the intervening headstones and trees hid it
from my sight. It was a lonely vigil. Just after I had taken my
place I heard a distant clock strike twelve, and in time came
one and two. I was chilled and unnerved, and angry with the
Professor for taking me on such an errand and with myself for
coming. I was too cold and too sleepy to be keenly observant,
and not sleepy enough to betray my trust, so altogether I had a
dreary, miserable time.
Suddenly, as I turned round, I thought I saw something like a
white streak, moving between two dark yew trees at the side of
the churchyard farthest from the tomb. At the same time a dark
mass moved from the Professor's side of the ground, and
hurriedly went towards it. Then I too moved, but I had to go
round headstones and railed-off tombs, and I stumbled over
graves. The sky was overcast, and somewhere far off an early
cock crew. A little ways off, beyond a line of scattered juniper
trees, which marked the pathway to the church, a white dim
figure flitted in the direction of the tomb. The tomb itself was
hidden by trees, and I could not see where the figure had
disappeared. I heard the rustle of actual movement where I had
first seen the white figure, and coming over, found the
Professor holding in his arms a tiny child. When he saw me he
held it out to me, and said, "Are you satisfied now?"
"No," I said, in a way that I felt was aggressive.
"Do you not see the child?"
"Yes, it is a child, but who brought it here? And is it
wounded?"
"We shall see,"said the Professor, and with one impulse we
took our way out of the churchyard, he carrying the sleeping
child.
When we had got some little distance away, we went into a
clump of trees, and struck a match, and looked at the child's
throat. It was without a scratch or scar of any kind.
"Was I right?" I asked triumphantly.
"We were just in time," said the Professor thankfully.
We had now to decide what we were to do with the child, and
so consulted about it. If we were to take it to a police station
we should have to give some account of our movements during the
night. At least, we should have had to make some statement as to
how we had come to find the child. So finally we decided that we
would take it to the Heath, and when we heard a policeman
coming, would leave it where he could not fail to find it. We
would then seek our way home as quickly as we could. All fell
out well. At the edge of Hampstead Heath we heard a policeman's
heavy tramp, and laying the child on the pathway, we waited and
watched until he saw it as he flashed his lantern to and fro. We
heard his exclamation of astonishment, and then we went away
silently. By good chance we got a cab near the `Spainiards,' and
drove to town.
I cannot sleep, so I make this entry. But I must try to get a
few hours' sleep, as Van Helsing is to call for me at noon. He
insists that I go with him on another expedition.
27 September.--It was two o'clock before we found a suitable
opportunity for our attempt. The funeral held at noon was all
completed, and the last stragglers of the mourners had taken
themselves lazily away, when, looking carefully from behind a
clump of alder trees, we saw the sexton lock the gate after him.
We knew that we were safe till morning did we desire it, but the
Professor told me that we should not want more than an hour at
most. Again I felt that horrid sense of the reality of things,
in which any effort of imagination seemed out of place, and I
realized distinctly the perils of the law which we were
incurring in our unhallowed work. Besides, I felt it was all so
useless. Outrageous as it was to open a leaden coffin, to see if
a woman dead nearly a week were really dead, it now seemed the
height of folly to open the tomb again, when we knew, from the
evidence of our own eyesight, that the coffin was empty. I
shrugged my shoulders, however, and rested silent, for Van
Helsing had a way of going on his own road, no matter who
remonstrated. He took the key, opened the vault, and again
courteously motioned me to precede. The place was not so
gruesome as last night, but oh, how unutterably mean looking
when the sunshine streamed in. Van Helsing walked over to Lucy's
coffin, and I followed. He bent over and again forced back the
leaden flange, and a shock of surprise and dismay shot through
me.
There lay Lucy, seemingly just as we had seen her the night
before her funeral. She was, if possible, more radiantly
beautiful than ever, and I could not believe that she was dead.
The lips were red, nay redder than before, and on the cheeks was
a delicate bloom.
"Is this a juggle?" I said to him.
"Are you convinced now?" said the Professor, in response, and
as he spoke he put over his hand, and in a way that made me
shudder, pulled back the dead lips and showed the white teeth.
"See," he went on,"they are even sharper than before. With this
and this," and he touched one of the canine teeth and that below
it, "the little children can be bitten. Are you of belief now,
friend John?"
Once more argumentative hostility woke within me. I could not
accept such an overwhelming idea as he suggested. So, with an
attempt to argue of which I was even at the moment ashamed, I
said, "She may have been placed here since last night."
"Indeed? That is so, and by whom?"
"I do not know. Someone has done it."
"And yet she has been dead one week. Most peoples in that
time would not look so."
I had no answer for this, so was silent. Van Helsing did not
seem to notice my silence. At any rate, he showed neither
chagrin nor triumph. He was looking intently at the face of the
dead woman, raising the eyelids and looking at the eyes, and
once more opening the lips and examining the teeth. Then he
turned to me and said,
"Here, there is one thing which is different from all
recorded. Here is some dual life that is not as the common. She
was bitten by the vampire when she was in a trance,
sleep-walking, oh, you start. You do not know that, friend John,
but you shall know it later, and in trance could he best come to
take more blood. In trance she dies, and in trance she is
Un-Dead, too. So it is that she differ from all other. Usually
when the Un-Dead sleep at home," as he spoke he made a
comprehensive sweep of his arm to designate what to a vampire
was `home', "their face show what they are, but this so sweet
that was when she not Un-Dead she go back to the nothings of the
common dead. There is no malign there, see, and so it make hard
that I must kill her in her sleep."
This turned my blood cold, and it began to dawn upon me that
I was accepting Van Helsing's theories. But if she were really
dead, what was there of terror in the idea of killing her?
He looked up at me, and evidently saw the change in my face,
for he said almost joyously, "Ah, you believe now?"
I answered, "Do not press me too hard all at once. I am
willing to accept. How will you do this bloody work?"
"I shall cut off her head and fill her mouth with garlic, and
I shall drive a stake through her body."
It made me shudder to think of so mutilating the body of the
woman whom I had loved. And yet the feeling was not so strong as
I had expected. I was, in fact, beginning to shudder at the
presence of this being, this Un-Dead, as Van Helsing called it,
and to loathe it. Is it possible that love is all subjective, or
all objective?
I waited a considerable time for Van Helsing to begin, but he
stood as if wrapped in thought. Presently he closed the catch of
his bag with a snap, and said,
"I have been thinking, and have made up my mind as to what is
best. If I did simply follow my inclining I would do now, at
this moment, what is to be done. But there are other things to
follow, and things that are thousand times more difficult in
that them we do not know. This is simple. She have yet no life
taken, though that is of time, and to act now would be to take
danger from her forever. But then we may have to want Arthur,
and how shall we tell him of this? If you, who saw the wounds on
Lucy's throat, and saw the wounds so similar on the child's at
the hospital, if you, who saw the coffin empty last night and
full today with a woman who have not change only to be more rose
and more beautiful in a whole week, after she die, if you know
of this and know of the white figure last night that brought the
child to the churchyard, and yet of your own senses you did not
believe, how then, can I expect Arthur, who know none of those
things, to believe?
"He doubted me when I took him from her kiss when she was
dying. I know he has forgiven me because in some mistaken idea I
have done things that prevent him say goodbye as he ought, and
he may think that in some more mistaken idea this woman was
buried alive, and that in most mistake of all we have killed
her. He will then argue back that it is we, mistaken ones, that
have killed her by our ideas, and so he will be much unhappy
always. Yet he never can be sure, and that is the worst of all.
And he will sometimes think that she he loved was buried alive,
and that will paint his dreams with horrors of what she must
have suffered, and again, he will think that we may be right,
and that his so beloved was, after all, an Un-Dead. No! I told
him once, and since then I learn much. Now, since I know it is
all true, a hundred thousand times more do I know that he must
pass through the bitter waters to reach the sweet. He, poor
fellow, must have one hour that will make the very face of
heaven grow black to him, then we can act for good all round and
send him peace. My mind is made up. Let us go. You return home
for tonight to your asylum, and see that all be well. As for me,
I shall spend the night here in this churchyard in my own way.
Tomorrow night you will come to me to the Berkeley Hotel at ten
of the clock. I shall send for Arthur to come too, and also that
so fine young man of America that gave his blood. Later we shall
all have work to do. I come with you so far as Piccadilly and
there dine, for I must be back here before the sun set."
So we locked the tomb and came away, and got over the wall of
the churchyard, which was not much of a task, and drove back to
Piccadilly.
NOTE LEFT BY VAN HELSING IN HIS PORTMANTEAU, BERKELEY HOTEL
DIRECTED TO JOHN SEWARD, M. D. (Not Delivered)
27 September
"Friend John,
"I write this in case anything should happen. I go alone to
watch in that churchyard. It pleases me that the Un-Dead, Miss
Lucy, shall not leave tonight, that so on the morrow night she
may be more eager. Therefore I shall fix some things she like
not, garlic and a crucifix, and so seal up the door of the tomb.
She is young as Un-Dead, and will heed. Moreover, these are only
to prevent her coming out. They may not prevail on her wanting
to get in, for then the Un-Dead is desperate, and must find the
line of least resistance, whatsoever it may be. I shall be at
hand all the night from sunset till after sunrise, and if there
be aught that may be learned I shall learn it. For Miss Lucy or
from her, I have no fear, but that other to whom is there that
she is Un-Dead, he have not the power to seek her tomb and find
shelter. He is cunning, as I know from Mr. Jonathan and from the
way that all along he have fooled us when he played with us for
Miss Lucy's life, and we lost, and in many ways the Un-Dead are
strong. He have always the strength in his hand of twenty men,
even we four who gave our strength to Miss Lucy it also is all
to him. Besides, he can summon his wolf and I know not what. So
if it be that he came thither on this night he shall find me.
But none other shall, until it be too late. But it may be that
he will not attempt the place. There is no reason why he should.
His hunting ground is more full of game than the churchyard
where the Un-Dead woman sleeps, and the one old man watch.
"Therefore I write this in case . . . Take the papers that
are with this, the diaries of Harker and the rest, and read
them, and then find this great Un-Dead, and cut off his head and
burn his heart or drive a stake through it, so that the world
may rest from him.
"If it be so, farewell.
"VAN HELSING."
DR. SEWARD'S DIARY
28 September.--It is wonderful what a good night's sleep will
do for one. Yesterday I was almost willing to accept Van
Helsing's monstrous ideas, but now they seem to start out lurid
before me as outrages on common sense. I have no doubt that he
believes it all. I wonder if his mind can have become in any way
unhinged. Surely there must be some rational explanation of all
these mysterious things. Is it possible that the Professor can
have done it himself? He is so abnormally clever that if he went
off his head he would carry out his intent with regard to some
fixed idea in a wonderful way. I am loathe to think it, and
indeed it would be almost as great a marvel as the other to find
that Van Helsing was mad, but anyhow I shall watch him
carefully. I may get some light on the mystery.
29 September.--Last night, at a little before ten o'clock,
Arthur and Quincey came into Van Helsing's room. He told us all
what he wanted us to do, but especially addressing himself to
Arthur, as if all our wills were centered in his. He began by
saying that he hoped we would all come with him too, "for," he
said, "there is a grave duty to be done there. You were
doubtless surprised at my letter?" This query was directly
addressed to Lord Godalming. "I was. It rather upset me for a
bit. There has been so much trouble around my house of late that
I could do without any more. I have been curious, too, as to
what you mean.
"Quincey and I talked it over, but the more we talked, the
more puzzled we got, till now I can say for myself that I'm
about up a tree as to any meaning about anything."
"Me too," said Quincey Morris laconically.
"Oh," said the Professor, "then you are nearer the beginning,
both of you, than friend John here, who has to go a long way
back before he can even get so far as to begin."
It was evident that he recognized my return to my old
doubting frame of mind without my saying a word. Then, turning
to the other two, he said with intense gravity,
"I want your permission to do what I think good this night.
It is, I know, much to ask, and when you know what it is I
propose to do you will know, and only then how much. Therefore
may I ask that you promise me in the dark, so that afterwards,
though you may be angry with me for a time, I must not disguise
from myself the possibility that such may be, you shall not
blame yourselves for anything."
"That's frank anyhow," broke in Quincey. "I'll answer for the
Professor. I don't quite see his drift, but I swear he's honest,
and that's good enough for me."
"I thank you, Sir," said Van Helsing proudly. "I have done
myself the honor of counting you one trusting friend, and such
endorsement is dear to me." He held out a hand, which Quincey
took.
Then Arthur spoke out, "Dr. Van Helsing, I don't quite like
to `buy a pig in a poke', as they say in Scotland, and if it be
anything in which my honour as a gentleman or my faith as a
Christian is concerned, I cannot make such a promise. If you can
assure me that what you intend does not violate either of these
two, then I give my consent at once, though for the life of me,
I cannot understand what you are driving at."
"I accept your limitation," said Van Helsing, "and all I ask
of you is that if you feel it necessary to condemn any act of
mine, you will first consider it well and be satisfied that it
does not violate your reservations."
"Agreed!" said Arthur. "That is only fair. And now that the
pourparlers are over, may I ask what it is we are to do?"
"I want you to come with me, and to come in secret, to the
churchyard at Kingstead."
Arthur's face fell as he said in an amazed sort of way,
"Where poor Lucy is buried?"
The Professor bowed.
Arthur went on, "And when there?"
"To enter the tomb!"
Arthur stood up. "Professor, are you in earnest, or is it
some monstrous joke? Pardon me, I see that you are in earnest."
He sat down again, but I could see that he sat firmly and
proudly, as one who is on his dignity. There was silence until
he asked again, "And when in the tomb?"
"To open the coffin."
"This is too much!" he said, angrily rising again. "I am
willing to be patient in all things that are reasonable, but in
this, this desecration of the grave, of one who . . ." He fairly
choked with indignation.
The Professor looked pityingly at him."If I could spare you
one pang, my poor friend," he said, "God knows I would. But this
night our feet must tread in thorny paths, or later, and for
ever, the feet you love must walk in paths of flame!"
Arthur looked up with set white face and said, "Take care,
sir, take care!"
"Would it not be well to hear what I have to say?" said Van
Helsing. "And then you will at least know the limit of my
purpose. Shall I go on?"
"That's fair enough," broke in Morris.
After a pause Van Helsing went on, evidently with an effort,
"Miss Lucy is dead, is it not so? Yes! Then there can be no
wrong to her. But if she be not dead. . ."
Arthur jumped to his feet, "Good God!" he cried. "What do you
mean? Has there been any mistake, has she been buried alive?"He
groaned in anguish that not even hope could soften.
"I did not say she was alive, my child. I did not think it. I
go no further than to say that she might be Un-Dead."
"Un-Dead! Not alive! What do you mean? Is this all a
nightmare, or what is it?"
"There are mysteries which men can only guess at, which age
by age they may solve only in part. Believe me, we are now on
the verge of one. But I have not done. May I cut off the head of
dead Miss Lucy?"
"Heavens and earth, no!" cried Arthur in a storm of passion.
"Not for the wide world will I consent to any mutilation of her
dead body. Dr. Van Helsing, you try me too far. What have I done
to you that you should torture me so? What did that poor, sweet
girl do that you should want to cast such dishonor on her grave?
Are you mad, that you speak of such things, or am I mad to
listen to them? Don't dare think more of such a desecration. I
shall not give my consent to anything you do. I have a duty to
do in protecting her grave from outrage, and by God, I shall do
it!"
Van Helsing rose up from where he had all the time been
seated, and said, gravely and sternly, "My Lord Godalming, I
too, have a duty to do, a duty to others, a duty to you, a duty
to the dead, and by God, I shall do it! All I ask you now is
that you come with me, that you look and listen, and if when
later I make the same request you do not be more eager for its
fulfillment even than I am, then, I shall do my duty, whatever
it may seem to me. And then, to follow your Lordship's wishes I
shall hold myself at your disposal to render an account to you,
when and where you will." His voice broke a little, and he went
on with a voice full of pity.
"But I beseech you, do not go forth in anger with me. In a
long life of acts which were often not pleasant to do, and which
sometimes did wring my heart, I have never had so heavy a task
as now. Believe me that if the time comes for you to change your
mind towards me, one look from you will wipe away all this so
sad hour, for I would do what a man can to save you from sorrow.
Just think. For why should I give myself so much labor and so
much of sorrow? I have come here from my own land to do what I
can of good, at the first to please my friend John, and then to
help a sweet young lady, whom too, I come to love. For her, I am
ashamed to say so much, but I say it in kindness, I gave what
you gave, the blood of my veins. I gave it, I who was not, like
you, her lover, but only her physician and her friend. I gave
her my nights and days, before death, after death, and if my
death can do her good even now, when she is the dead Un-Dead,
she shall have it freely." He said this with a very grave, sweet
pride, and Arthur was much affected by it.
He took the old man's hand and said in a broken voice, "Oh,
it is hard to think of it, and I cannot understand, but at least
I shall go with you and wait."
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Chapter 16
DR SEWARD'S DIARY-cont.
It was just a quarter before twelve o'clock when we got into
the churchyard over the low wall. The night was dark with
occasional gleams of moonlight between the dents of the heavy
clouds that scudded across the sky. We all kept somehow close
together, with Van Helsing slightly in front as he led the way.
When we had come close to the tomb I looked well at Arthur, for
I feared the proximity to a place laden with so sorrowful a
memory would upset him, but he bore himself well. I took it that
the very mystery of the proceeding was in some way a
counteractant to his grief. The Professor unlocked the door, and
seeing a natural hesitation amongst us for various reasons,
solved the difficulty by entering first himself. The rest of us
followed, and he closed the door. He then lit a dark lantern and
pointed to a coffin. Arthur stepped forward hesitatingly. Van
Helsing said to me, "You were with me here yesterday. Was the
body of Miss Lucy in that coffin?"
"It was."
The Professor turned to the rest saying, "You hear, and yet
there is no one who does not believe with me.'
He took his screwdriver and again took off the lid of the
coffin. Arthur looked on, very pale but silent. When the lid was
removed he stepped forward. He evidently did not know that there
was a leaden coffin, or at any rate, had not thought of it. When
he saw the rent in the lead, the blood rushed to his face for an
instant, but as quickly fell away again, so that he remained of
a ghastly whiteness. He was still silent. Van Helsing forced
back the leaden flange, and we all looked in and recoiled.
The coffin was empty!
For several minutes no one spoke a word. The silence was
broken by Quincey Morris, "Professor, I answered for you. Your
word is all I want. I wouldn't ask such a thing ordinarily, I
wouldn't so dishonor you as to imply a doubt, but this is a
mystery that goes beyond any honor or dishonor. Is this your
doing?"
"I swear to you by all that I hold sacred that I have not
removed or touched her. What happened was this. Two nights ago
my friend Seward and I came here, with good purpose, believe me.
I opened that coffin, which was then sealed up, and we found it
as now, empty. We then waited, and saw something white come
through the trees. The next day we came here in daytime and she
lay there. Did she not, friend John?
"Yes."
"That night we were just in time. One more so small child was
missing, and we find it, thank God,unharmed amongst the graves.
Yesterday I came here before sundown, for at sundown the Un-Dead
can move. I waited here all night till the sun rose, but I saw
nothing. It was most probable that it was because I had laid
over the clamps of those doors garlic, which the Un-Dead cannot
bear, and other things which they shun. Last night there was no
exodus, so tonight before the sundown I took away my garlic and
other things. And so it is we find this coffin empty. But bear
with me. So far there is much that is strange. Wait you with me
outside, unseen and unheard, and things much stranger are yet to
be. So," here he shut the dark slide of his lantern,"now to the
outside." He opened the door, and we filed out, he coming last
and locking the door behind him.
Oh! But it seemed fresh and pure in the night air after the
terror of that vault. How sweet it was to see the clouds race
by, and the passing gleams of the moonlight between the scudding
clouds crossing and passing, like the gladness and sorrow of a
man's life. How sweet it was to breathe the fresh air, that had
no taint of death and decay. How humanizing to see the red
lighting of the sky beyond the hill, and to hear far away the
muffled roar that marks the life of a great city. Each in his
own way was solemn and overcome. Arthur was silent, and was, I
could see, striving to grasp the purpose and the inner meaning
of the mystery. I was myself tolerably patient, and half
inclined again to throw aside doubt and to accept Van Helsing's
conclusions. Quincey Morris was phlegmatic in the way of a man
who accepts all things, and accepts them in the spirit of cool
bravery, with hazard of all he has at stake. Not being able to
smoke, he cut himself a good-sized plug of tobacco and began to
chew. As to Van Helsing, he was employed in a definite way.
First he took from his bag a mass of what looked like thin,
wafer-like biscuit, which was carefully rolled up in a white
napkin. Next he took out a double handful of some whitish stuff,
like dough or putty. He crumbled the wafer up fine and worked it
into the mass between his hands. This he then took, and rolling
it into thin strips, began to lay them into the crevices between
the door and its setting in the tomb. I was somewhat puzzled at
this, and being close, asked him what it was that he was doing.
Arthur and Quincey drew near also, as they too were curious.
He answered, "I am closing the tomb so that the Un-Dead may
not enter."
"And is that stuff you have there going to do it?"
"It Is."
"What is that which you are using?" This time the question
was by Arthur. Van Helsing reverently lifted his hat as he
answered.
"The Host. I brought it from Amsterdam. I have an
Indulgence."
It was an answer that appalled the most sceptical of us, and
we felt individually that in the presence of such earnest
purpose as the Professor's, a purpose which could thus use the
to him most sacred of things, it was impossible to distrust. In
respectful silence we took the places assigned to us close round
the tomb, but hidden from the sight of any one approaching. I
pitied the others, especially Arthur. I had myself been
apprenticed by my former visits to this watching horror, and yet
I, who had up to an hour ago repudiated the proofs, felt my
heart sink within me. Never did tombs look so ghastly white.
Never did cypress, or yew, or juniper so seem the embodiment of
funeral gloom. Never did tree or grass wave or rustle so
ominously. Never did bough creak so mysteriously, and never did
the far-away howling of dogs send such a woeful presage through
the night.
There was a long spell of silence, big, aching, void, and
then from the Professor a keen "S-s-s-s!" He pointed, and far
down the avenue of yews we saw a white figure advance, a dim
white figure, which held something dark at its breast. The
figure stopped, and at the moment a ray of moonlight fell upon
the masses of driving clouds, and showed in startling prominence
a dark-haired woman, dressed in the cerements of the grave. We
could not see the face, for it was bent down over what we saw to
be a fair-haired child. There was a pause and a sharp little
cry, such as a child gives in sleep, or a dog as it lies before
the fire and dreams. We were starting forward, but the
Professor's warning hand, seen by us as he stood behind a yew
tree, kept us back. And then as we looked the white figure moved
forwards again. It was now near enough for us to see clearly,
and the moonlight still held. My own heart grew cold as ice, and
I could hear the gasp of Arthur, as we recognized the features
of Lucy Westenra. Lucy Westenra, but yet how changed. The
sweetness was turned to adamantine, heartless cruelty, and the
purity to voluptuous wantonness.
Van Helsing stepped out, and obedient to his gesture, we all
advanced too. The four of us ranged in a line before the door of
the tomb. Van Helsing raised his lantern and drew the slide. By
the concentrated light that fell on Lucy's face we could see
that the lips were crimson with fresh blood, and that the stream
had trickled over her chin and stained the purity of her lawn
death robe.
We shuddered with horror. I could see by the tremulous light
that even Van Helsing's iron nerve had failed. Arthur was next
to me, and if I had not seized his arm and held him up, he would
have fallen.
When Lucy, I call the thing that was before us Lucy because
it bore her shape, saw us she drew back with an angry snarl,
such as a cat gives when taken unawares, then her eyes ranged
over us. Lucy's eyes in form and color, but Lucy's eyes unclean
and full of hell fire, instead of the pure, gentle orbs we knew.
At that moment the remnant of my love passed into hate and
loathing. Had she then to be killed, I could have done it with
savage delight. As she looked, her eyes blazed with unholy
light, and the face became wreathed with a voluptuous smile. Oh,
God, how it made me shudder to see it! With a careless motion,
she flung to the ground, callous as a devil, the child that up
to now she had clutched strenuously to her breast, growling over
it as a dog growls over a bone. The child gave a sharp cry, and
lay there moaning. There was a cold-bloodedness in the act which
wrung a groan from Arthur. When she advanced to him with
outstretched arms and a wanton smile he fell back and hid his
face in his hands.
She still advanced, however, and with a languorous,
voluptuous grace, said, "Come to me, Arthur. Leave these others
and come to me. My arms are hungry for you. Come, and we can
rest together. Come, my husband, come!"
There was something diabolically sweet in her tones,
something of the tinkling of glass when struck, which rang
through the brains even of us who heard the words addressed to
another.
As for Arthur, he seemed under a spell, moving his hands from
his face, he opened wide his arms. She was leaping for them,
when Van Helsing sprang forward and held between them his little
golden crucifix. She recoiled from it, and, with a suddenly
distorted face, full of rage, dashed past him as if to enter the
tomb.
When within a foot or two of the door, however,she stopped,
as if arrested by some irresistible force. Then she turned, and
her face was shown in the clear burst of moonlight and by the
lamp, which had now no quiver from Van Helsing's nerves. Never
did I see such baffled malice on a face, and never, I trust,
shall such ever be seen again by mortal eyes. The beautiful
color became livid, the eyes seemed to throw out sparks of hell
fire, the brows were wrinkled as though the folds of flesh were
the coils of Medusa's snakes, and the lovely, blood-stained
mouth grew to an open square, as in the passion masks of the
Greeks and Japanese. If ever a face meant death, if looks could
kill, we saw it at that moment.
And so for full half a minute, which seemed an eternity, se
remained between the lifted crucifix and the sacred closing of
her means of entry.
Van Helsing broke the silence by asking Arthur, "Answer me,
oh my friend! Am I to proceed in my work?"
"Do as you will, friend. Do as you will. There can be no
horror like this ever any more." And he groaned in spirit.
Quincey and I simultaneously moved towards him, and took his
arms. We could hear the click of the closing lantern as Van
Helsing held it down. Coming close to the tomb, he began to
remove from the chinks some of the sacred emblem which he had
placed there. We all looked on with horrified amazement as we
saw, when he stood back, the woman, with a corporeal body as
real at that moment as our own, pass through the interstice
where scarce a knife blade could have gone. We all felt a glad
sense of relief when we saw the Professor calmly restoring the
strings of putty to the edges of the door.
When this was done, he lifted the child and said, "Come now,
my friends. We can do no more till tomorrow. There is a funeral
at noon, so here we shall all come before long after that. The
friends of the dead will all be gone by two, and when the sexton
locks the gate we shall remain. Then there is more to do, but
not like this of tonight. As for this little one, he is not much
harmed, and by tomorrow night he shall be well. We shall leave
him where the police will find him, as on the other night, and
then to home."
Coming close to Arthur, he said, "My friend Arthur, you have
had a sore trial, but after, when you look back, you will see
how it was necessary. You are now in the bitter waters, my
child. By this time tomorrow you will, please God, have passed
them, and have drunk of the sweet waters. So do not mourn
over-much. Till then I shall not ask you to forgive me."
Arthur and Quincey came home with me, and we tried to cheer
each other on the way. We had left behind the child in safety,
and were tired. So we all slept with more or less reality of
sleep.
29 September, night.--A little before twelve o'clock we
three, Arthur, Quincey Morris, and myself, called for the
Professor. It was odd to notice that by common consent we had
all put on black clothes. Of course, Arthur wore black, for he
was in deep mourning, but the rest of us wore it by instinct. We
got to the graveyard by half-past one, and strolled about,
keeping out of official observation, so that when the
gravediggers had completed their task and the sexton under the
belief that every one had gone, had locked the gate, we had the
place all to ourselves. Van Helsing, instead of his little black
bag, had with him a long leather one,something like a cricketing
bag. It was manifestly of fair weight.
When we were alone and had heard the last of the footsteps
die out up the road, we silently, and as if by ordered
intention, followed the Professor to the tomb. He unlocked the
door, and we entered, closing it behind us. Then he took from
his bag the lantern, which he lit, and also two wax candles,
which, when lighted, he stuck by melting their own ends, on
other coffins, so that they might give light sufficient to work
by. When he again lifted the lid off Lucy's coffin we all
looked, Arthur trembling like an aspen, and saw that the corpse
lay there in all its death beauty. But there was no love in my
own heart, nothing but loathing for the foul Thing which had
taken Lucy's shape without her soul. I could see even Arthur's
face grow hard as he looked. Presently he said to Van Helsing,
"Is this really Lucy's body, or only a demon in her shape?"
"It is her body, and yet not it. But wait a while, and you
shall see her as she was, and is."
She seemed like a nightmare of Lucy as she lay there, the
pointed teeth, the blood stained, voluptuous mouth, which made
one shudder to see, the whole carnal and unspirited appearance,
seeming like a devilish mockery of Lucy's sweet purity. Van
Helsing, with his usual methodicalness, began taking the various
contents from his bag and placing them ready for use. First he
took out a soldering iron and some plumbing solder, and then
small oil lamp, which gave out, when lit in a corner of the
tomb, gas which burned at a fierce heat with a blue flame, then
his operating knives, which he placed to hand, and last a round
wooden stake, some two and a half or three inches thick and
about three feet long. One end of it was hardened by charring in
the fire, and was sharpened to a fine point. With this stake
came a heavy hammer, such as in households is used in the coal
cellar for breaking the lumps. To me, a doctor's preperations
for work of any kind are stimulating and bracing, but the effect
of these things on both Arthur and Quincey was to cause them a
sort of consternation. They both, however, kept their courage,
and remained silent and quiet.
When all was ready, Van Helsing said,"Before we do anything,
let me tell you this. It is out of the lore and experience of
the ancients and of all those who have studied the powers of the
Un-Dead. When they become such, there comes with the change the
curse of immortality. They cannot die, but must go on age after
age adding new victims and multiplying the evils of the world.
For all that die from the preying of the Un-dead become
themselves Un-dead, and prey on their kind. And so the circle
goes on ever widening, like as the ripples from a stone thrown
in the water. Friend Arthur, if you had met that kiss which you
know of before poor Lucy die, or again, last night when you open
your arms to her, you would in time, when you had died, have
become nosferatu, as they call it in Eastern europe, and would
for all time make more of those Un-Deads that so have filled us
with horror. The career of this so unhappy dear lady is but just
begun. Those children whose blood she sucked are not as yet so
much the worse, but if she lives on, Un-Dead, more and more they
lose their blood and by her power over them they come to her,
and so she draw their blood with that so wicked mouth. But if
she die in truth, then all cease. The tiny wounds of the throats
disappear, and they go back to their play unknowing ever of what
has been. But of the most blessed of all, when this now Un-Dead
be made to rest as true dead, then the soul of the poor lady
whom we love shall again be free. Instead of working wickedness
by night and growing more debased in the assimilating of it by
day, she shall take her place with the other Angels. So that, my
friend, it will be a blessed hand for her that shall strike the
blow that sets her free. To this I am willing, but is there none
amongst us who has a better right? Will it be no joy to think of
hereafter in the silence of the night when sleep is not, `It was
my hand that sent her to the stars. It was the hand of him that
loved her best, the hand that of all she would herself have
chosen, had it been to her to choose?' Tell me if there be such
a one amongst us?"
We all looked at Arthur. He saw too, what we all did, the
infinite kindness which suggested that his should be the hand
which would restore Lucy to us as a holy, and not an unholy,
memory. He stepped forward and said bravely, though his hand
trembled, and his face was as pale as snow, "My true friend,
from the bottom of my broken heart I thank you. Tell me what I
am to do, and I shall not falter!"
Van Helsing laid a hand on his shoulder, and said,"Brave lad!
A moment's courage, and it is done. This stake must be driven
through her. It well be a fearful ordeal, be not deceived in
that, but it will be only a short time, and you will then
rejoice more than your pain was great. From this grim tomb you
will emerge as though you tread on air. But you must not falter
when once you have begun. Only think that we, your true friends,
are round you, and that we pray for you all the time."
"Go on,"said Arthur hoarsely."Tell me what I am to do."
"Take this stake in your left hand, ready to place to the
point over the heart, and the hammer in your right. Then when we
begin our prayer for the dead, I shall read him, I have here the
book, and the others shall follow, strike in God's name, that so
all may be well with the dead that we love and that the Un-Dead
pass away." Arthur took the stake and the hammer, and when once
his mind was set on action his hands never trembled nor even
quivered. Van Helsing opened his missal and began to read, and
Quincey and I followed as well as we could.
Arthur placed the point over the heart, and as I looked I
could see its dint in the white flesh. Then he struck with all
his might.
The thing in the coffin writhed, and a hideous, bloodcurdling
screech came from the opened red lips. The body shook and
quivered and twisted in wild contortions. The sharp white
champed together till the lips were cut, and the mouth was
smeared with a crimson foam. But Arthur never faltered. He
looked like a figure of Thor as his untrembling arm rose and
fell, driving deeper and deeper the mercybearing stake, whilst
the blood from the pierced heart welled and spurted up around
it. His face was set, and high duty seemed to shine through it.
The sight of it gave us courage so that our voices seemed to
ring through the little vault.
And then the writhing and quivering of the body became less,
and the teeth seemed to champ, and the face to quiver. Finally
it lay still. The terrible task was over.
The hammer fell from Arthur's hand. He reeled and would have
fallen had we not caught him. The great drops of sweat sprang
from his forehead, and his breath came in broken gasps. It had
indeed been an awful strain on him, and had he not been forced
to his task by more than human considerations he could never
have gone through with it. For a few minutes we were so taken up
with him that we did not look towards the coffin. When we did,
however, a murmur of startled surprise ran from one to the other
of us. We gazed so eagerly that Arthur rose, for he had been
seated on the ground, and came and looked too, and then a glad
strange light broke over his face and dispelled altogether the
gloom of horror that lay upon it.
There, in the coffin lay no longer the foul Thing that we has
so dreaded and grown to hate that the work of her destruction
was yielded as a privilege to the one best entitled to it, but
Lucy as we had seen her in life, with her face of unequalled
sweetness and purity. True that there were there, as we had seen
them in life, the traces of care and pain and waste. But these
were all dear to us, for they marked her truth to what we knew.
One and all we felt that the holy calm that lay like sunshine
over the wasted face and form was only an earthly token and
symbol of the calm that was to reign for ever.
Van Helsing came and laid his hand on Arthur's shoulder, and
said to him, "And now, Arthur my friend, dear lad, am I not
forgiven?"
The reaction of the terrible strain came as he took the old
man's hand in his, and raising it to his lips, pressed it, and
said, "Forgiven! God bless you that you have given my dear one
her soul again, and me peace." He put his hands on the
Professor's shoulder, and laying his head on his breast, cried
for a while silently, whilst we stood unmoving.
When he raised his head Van Helsing said to him, "And now, my
child, you may kiss her. Kiss her dead lips if you will, as she
would have you to, if for her to choose. For she is not a
grinning devil now, not any more a foul Thing for all eternity.
No longer she is the devil's Un-Dead. She is God's true dead,
whose soul is with Him!"
Arthur bent and kissed her, and then we sent him and Quincey
out of the tomb. The Professor and I sawed the top off the
stake, leaving the point of it in the body. Then we cut off the
head and filled the mouth with garlic. We soldered up the leaden
coffin, screwed on the coffin lid, and gathering up our
belongings, came away. When the Professor locked the door he
gave the key to Arthur.
Outside the air was sweet, the sun shone, and the birds sang,
and it seemed as if all nature were tuned to a different pitch.
There was gladness and mirth and peace everywhere, for we were
at rest ourselves on one account, and we were glad, though it
was with a tempered joy.
Before we moved away Van Helsing said,"Now, my friends, one
step or our work is done, one the most harrowing to ourselves.
But there remains a greater task, to find out the author of all
this or sorrow and to stamp him out. I have clues which we can
follow, but it is a long task, and a difficult one, and there is
danger in it, and pain. Shall you not all help me? We have
learned to believe, all of us, is it not so? And since so, do we
not see our duty? Yes! And do we not promise to go on to the
bitter end?"
Each in turn, we took his hand, and the promise was made.
Then said the Professor as we moved off, "Two nights hence you
shall meet with me and dine together at seven of the clock with
friend John. I shall entreat two others, two that you know not
as yet, and I shall be ready to all our work show and our plans
unfold. Friend John, you come with me home, for I have much to
consult you about, and you can help me. Tonight I leave for
Amsterdam, but shall return tomorrow night. And then begins our
great quest. But first I shall have much to say, so that you may
know what to do and to dread. Then our promise shall be made to
each other anew. For there is a terrible task before us, and
once our feet are on the ploughshare we must not draw back."
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Chapter 17
DR. SEWARD'S DIARY-cont
When we arrived at the Berkely Hotel, Van Helsing found a
telegram waiting for him.
"Am coming up by train. Jonathan at Whitby. Important news.
Mina Harker."
The Professor was delighted. "Ah, that wonderful Madam Mina,"
he said, "pearl among women! She arrive, but I cannot stay. She
must go to your house, friend John. You must meet her at the
station. Telegraph her en route so that she may be prepared."
When the wire was dispatched he had a cup of tea. Over it he
told me of a diary kept by Jonathan Harker when abroad, and gave
me a typewritten copy of it, as also of Mrs. Harker's diary at
Whitby. "Take these," he said,"and study them well. When I have
returned you will be master of all the facts, and we can then
better enter on our inquisition. Keep them safe, for there is in
them much of treasure. You will need all your faith, even you
who have had such an experience as that of today. What is here
told," he laid his hand heavily and gravely on the packet of
papers as he spoke, "may be the beginning of the end to you and
me and many another, or it may sound the knell of the Un-Dead
who walk the earth. Read all, I pray you, with the open mind,
and if you can add in any way to the story here told do so, for
it is all important. You have kept a diary of all these so
strange things, is it not so? Yes! Then we shall go through all
these together when we meet." He then made ready for his
departure and shortly drove off to Liverpool Street. I took my
way to Paddington, where I arrived about fifteen minutes before
the train came in.
The crowd melted away, after the bustling fashion common to
arrival platforms, and I was beginning to feel uneasy, lest I
might miss my guest, when a sweet-faced, dainty looking girl
stepped up to me, and after a quick glance said, "Dr. Seward, is
it not?"
"And you are Mrs. Harker!" I answered at once, whereupon she
held out her hand.
"I knew you from the description of poor dear Lucy, but. . ."
She stopped suddenly, and a quick blush overspread her face.
The blush that rose to my own cheeks somehow set us both at
ease, for it was a tacit answer to her own. I got her luggage,
which included a typewriter, and we took the Underground to
Fenchurch Street, after I had sent a wire to my housekeeper to
have a sitting room and a bedroom prepared at once for Mrs.
Harker.
In due time we arrived. She knew, of course, that the place
was a lunatic asylum, but I could see that she was unable to
repress a shudder when we entered.
She told me that, if she might, she would come presently to
my study, as she had much to say. So here I am finishing my
entry in my phonograph diary whilst I await her. As yet I have
not had the chance of looking at the papers which Van Helsing
left with me, though they lie open before me. I must get her
interested in something, so that I may have an opportunity of
reading them. She does not know how precious time is, or what a
task we have in hand. I must be careful not to frighten her.
Here she is!
MINA HARKER'S JOURNAL
29 September.--After I had tidied myself, I went down to Dr.
Seward's study. At the door I paused a moment, for I thought I
heard him talking with some one. As, however, he had pressed me
to be quick, I knocked at the door, and on his calling out,
"Come in," I entered.
To my intense surprise, there was no one with him. He was
quite alone, and on the table opposite him was what I knew at
once from the description to be a phonograph. I had never seen
one, and was much interested.
"I hope I did not keep you waiting," I said, "but I stayed at
the door as I heard you talking, and thought there was someone
with you."
"Oh," he replied with a smile, "I was only entering my
diary."
"Your diary?" I asked him in surprise.
"Yes," he answered. "I keep it in this." As he spoke he laid
his hand on the phonograph. I felt quite excited over it, and
blurted out, "Why, this beats even shorthand! May I hear it say
something?"
"Certainly," he replied with alacrity, and stood up to put it
in train for speaking. Then he paused, and a troubled look
overspread his face.
"The fact is," he began awkwardly."I only keep my diary in
it, and as it is entirely, almost entirely, about my cases it
may be awkward, that is, I mean . . ." He stopped, and I tried
to help him out of his embarrassment.
"You helped to attend dear Lucy at the end. Let me hear how
she died, for all that I know of her, I shall be very grateful.
She was very, very dear to me."
To my surprise, he answered, with a horrorstruck look in his
face, "Tell you of her death? Not for the wide world!"
"Why not?" I asked, for some grave, terrible feeling was
coming over me.
Again he paused, and I could see that he was trying to invent
an excuse. At length, he stammered out, "You see, I do not know
how to pick out any particular part of the diary."
Even while he was speaking an idea dawned upon him, and he
said with unconscious simplicity, in a different voice, and with
the naivete of a child, "that's quite true, upon my honor.
Honest Indian!"
I could not but smile, at which he grimaced."I gave myself
away that time!" he said. "But do you know that, although I have
kept the diary for months past, it never once struck me how I
was going to find any particular part of it in case I wanted to
look it up?"
By this time my mind was made up that the diary of a doctor
who attended Lucy might have something to add to the sum of our
knowledge of that terrible Being, and I said boldly, "Then, Dr.
Seward, you had better let me copy it out for you on my
typewriter."
He grew to a positively deathly pallor as he said, "No! No!
No! For all the world. I wouldn't let you know that terrible
story.!"
Then it was terrible. My intuition was right! For a moment, I
thought, and as my eyes ranged the room, unconsciously looking
for something or some opportunity to aid me, they lit on a great
batch of typewriting on the table. His eyes caught the look in
mine, and without his thinking, followed their direction. As
they saw the parcel he realized my meaning.
"You do not know me," I said. "When you have read those
papers, my own diary and my husband's also, which I have typed,
you will know me better. I have not faltered in giving every
thought of my own heart in this cause. But, of course, you do
not know me, yet, and I must not expect you to trust me so far."
He is certainly a man of noble nature. Poor dear Lucy was
right about him. He stood up and opened a large drawer, in which
were arranged in order a number of hollow cylinders of metal
covered with dark wax, and said,
"You are quite right. I did not trust you because I did not
know you. But I know you now, and let me say that I should have
known you long ago. I know that Lucy told you of me. She told me
of you too. May I make the only atonement in my power? Take the
cylinders and hear them. The first half-dozen of them are
personal to me, and they will not horrify you. Then you will
know me better. Dinner will by then be ready. In the meantime I
shall read over some of these documents, and shall be better
able to understand certain things."
He carried the phonograph himself up to my sitting room and
adjusted it for me. Now I shall learn something pleasant, I am
sure. For it will tell me the other side of a true love episode
of which I know one side already.
DR. SEWARD'S DIARY
29 September.--I was so absorbed in that wonderful diary of
Jonathan Harker and that other of his wife that I let the time
run on without thinking. Mrs. Harker was not down when the maid
came to announce dinner, so I said, "She is possibly tired. Let
dinner wait an hour," and I went on with my work. I had just
finished Mrs. Harker's diary, when she came in. She looked
sweetly pretty, but very sad, and her eyes were flushed with
crying. This somehow moved me much. Of late I have had cause for
tears, God knows! But the relief of them was denied me, and now
the sight of those sweet eyes, brightened by recent tears, went
straight to my heart. So I said as gently as I could, "I greatly
fear I have distressed you."
"Oh, no, not distressed me," she replied. "But I have been
more touched than I can say by your grief. That is a wonderful
machine, but it is cruelly true. It told me, in its very tones,
the anguish of your heart. It was like a soul crying out to
Almighty God. No one must hear them spoken ever again! See, I
have tried to be useful. I have copied out the words on my
typewriter, and none other need now hear your heart beat, as I
did."
"No one need ever know, shall ever know," I said in a low
voice. She laid her hand on mine and said very gravely, "Ah, but
they must!"
"Must! but why?" I asked.
"Because it is a part of the terrible story, a part of poor
Lucy's death and all that led to it. Because in the struggle
which we have before us to rid the earth of this terrible
monster we must have all the knowledge and all the help which we
can get. I think that the cylinders which you gave me contained
more than you intended me to know. But I can see that there are
in your record many lights to this dark mystery. You will let me
help, will you not? I know all up to a certain point, and I see
already, though your diary only took me to 7 September, how poor
Lucy was beset, and how her terrible doom was being wrought out.
Jonathan and I have been working day and night since Professor
Van Helsing saw us. He is gone to Whitby to get more
information, and he will be here tomorrow to help us. We need
have no secrets amongst us. Working together and with absolute
trust, we can surely be stronger than if some of us were in the
dark."
She looked at me so appealingly, and at the same time
manifested such courage and resolution in her bearing, that I
gave in at once to her wishes. "You shall," I said, "do as you
like in the matter. God forgive me if I do wrong! There are
terrible things yet to learn of. But if you have so far traveled
on the road to poor Lucy's death, you will not be content, I
know, to remain in the dark. Nay, the end, the very end, may
give you a gleam of peace. Come, there is dinner. We must keep
one another strong for what is before us. We have a cruel and
dreadful task. When you have eaten you shall learn the rest, and
I shall answer any questions you ask, if there be anything which
you do not understand, though it was apparent to us who were
present."
MINA HARKER'S JOURNAL
29 September.--After dinner I came with Dr. Seward to his
study. He brought back the phonograph from my room, and I took a
chair, and arranged the phonograph so that I could touch it
without getting up, and showed me how to stop it in case I
should want to pause. Then he very thoughtfully took a chair,
with his back to me, so that I might be as free as possible, and
began to read. I put the forked metal to my ears and listened.
When the terrible story of Lucy's death, and all that
followed, was done, I lay back in my chair powerless.
Fortunately I am not of a fainting disposition. When Dr. Seward
saw me he jumped up with a horrified exclamation, and hurriedly
taking a case bottle from the cupboard, gave me some brandy,
which in a few minutes somewhat restored me. My brain was all in
a whirl, and only that there came through all the multitude of
horrors, the holy ray of light that my dear Lucy was at last at
peace, I do not think I could have borne it without making a
scene. It is all so wild and mysterious, and strange that if I
had not known Jonathan's experience in Transylvania I could not
have believed. As it was, I didn't know what to believe, and so
got out of my difficulty by attending to something else. I took
the cover off my typewriter, and said to Dr. Seward,
"Let me write this all out now. We must be ready for Dr. Van
Helsing when he comes. I have sent a telegram to Jonathan to
come on here when he arrives in London from Whitby. In this
matter dates are everything, and I think that if we get all of
our material ready, and have every item put in chronological
order, we shall have done much.
"You tell me that Lord Godalming and Mr. Morris are coming
too. Let us be able to tell them when they come."
He accordingly set the phonograph at a slow pace, and I began
to typewrite from the beginning of the seventeenth cylinder. I
used manifold, and so took three copies of the diary, just as I
had done with the rest. It was late when I got through, but Dr.
Seward went about his work of going his round of the patients.
When he had finished he came back and sat near me, reading, so
that I did not feel too lonely whilst I worked. How good and
thoughtful he is. The world seems full of good men, even if
there are monsters in it.
Before I left him I remembered what Jonathan put in his diary
of the Professor's perturbation at reading something in an
evening paper at the station at Exeter, so, seeing that Dr.
Seward keeps his newspapers, I borrowed the files of `The
Westminster Gazette' and `The Pall Mall Gazette' and took them
to my room. I remember how much the `Dailygraph' and `The Whitby
Gazette', of which I had made cuttings, had helped us to
understand the terrible events at Whitby when Count Dracula
landed, so I shall look through the evening papers since then,
and perhaps I shall get some new light. I am not sleepy, and the
work will help to keep me quiet.
DR. SEWARD'S DIARY
30 September.--Mr. Harker arrived at nine o'clock. He got his
wife's wire just before starting. He is uncommonly clever, if
one can judge from his face, and full of energy. If this journal
be true, and judging by one's own wonderful experiences, it must
be, he is also a man of great nerve. That going down to the
vault a second time was a remarkable piece of daring. After
reading his account of it I was prepared to meet a good specimen
of manhood, but hardly the quiet, business-like gentleman who
came here today.
LATER.--After lunch Harker and his wife went back to their
own room, and as I passed a while ago I heard the click of the
typewriter. They are hard at it. Mrs. Harker says that knitting
together in chronological order every scrap of evidence they
have. Harker has got the letters between the consignee of the
boxes at Whitby and the carriers in London who took charge of
them. He is now reading his wife's transcript of my diary. I
wonder what they make out of it. Here it is . . .
Strange that it never struck me that the very next house
might be the Count's hiding place! Goodness knows that we had
enough clues from the conduct of the patient Renfield! The
bundle of letters relating to the purchase of the house were
with the transcript. Oh, if we had only had them earlier we
might have saved poor Lucy! Stop! That way madness lies! Harker
has gone back, and is again collecting material. He says that by
dinner time they will be able to show a whole connected
narrative. He thinks that in the meantime I should see Renfield,
as hitherto he has been a sort of index to the coming and going
of the Count. I hardly see this yet, but when I get at the dates
I suppose I shall. What a good thing that Mrs. Harker put my
cylinders into type! We never could have found the dates
otherwise.
I found Renfield sitting placidly in his room with his hands
folded, smiling benignly. At the moment he seemed as sane as any
one I ever saw. I sat down and talked with him on a lot of
subjects, all of which he treated naturally. He then, of his own
accord, spoke of going home, a subject he has never mentioned to
my knowledge during his sojourn here. In fact, he spoke quite
confidently of getting his discharge at once. I believe that,
had I not had the chat with Harker and read the letters and the
dates of his outbursts, I should have been prepared to sign for
him after a brief time of observation. As it is, I am darkly
suspicious. All those outbreaks were in some way linked with the
proximity of the Count. What then does this absolute content
mean? Can it be that his instinct is satisfied as to the
vampire's ultimate triumph? Stay. He is himself zoophagous, and
in his wild ravings outside the chapel door of the deserted
house he always spoke of `master'. This all seems confirmation
of our idea. However, after a while I came away. My friend is
just a little too sane at present to make it safe to probe him
too deep with questions. He might begin to think, and then . . .
So I came away. I mistrust these quiet moods of of his, so I
have given the attendant a hint to look closely after him, and
to have a strait waistcoat ready in case of need.
JOHNATHAN HARKER'S JOURNAL
29 September, in train to London.--When I received Mr.
Billington's courteous message that he would give me any
information in his power I thought it best to go down to Whitby
and make, on the spot, such inquiries as I wanted. It was now my
object to trace that horrid cargo of the Count's to its place in
London. Later, we may be able to deal with it. Billington
junior, a nice lad, met me at the station, and brought me to his
father's house, where they had decided that I must spend the
night. They are hospitable, with true Yorkshire hospitality,
give a guest everything and leave him to do as he likes. They
all knew that I was busy, and that my stay was short, and Mr.
Billington had ready in his office all the papers concerning the
consignment of boxes. It gave me almost a turn to see again one
of the letters which I had seen on the Count's table before I
knew of his diabolical plans. Everything had been carefully
thought out, and done systematically and with precision. He
seemed to have been prepared for every obstacle which might be
placed by accident in the way of his intentions being carried
out. To use and Americanism, he had `taken no chances', and the
absolute accuracy with which his instructions were fulfilled was
simply the logical result of his care. I saw the invoice, and
took note of it.`Fifty cases of common earth, to be used for
experimental purposes'. Also the copy of the letter to Carter
Paterson, and their reply. Of both these I got copies. This was
all the information Mr. Billington could give me, so I went down
to the port and saw the coastguards, the Customs Officers and
the harbor master, who kindly put me in communication with the
men who had actually received the boxes. Their tally was exact
with the list, and they had nothing to add to the simple
description `fifty cases of common earth', except that the boxes
were `main and mortal heavy', and that shifting them was dry
work. One of them added that it was hard lines that there wasn't
any gentleman `such like as like yourself, squire', to show some
sort of appreciation of their efforts in a liquid form. Another
put in a rider that the thirst then generated was such that even
the time which had elapsed had not completely allayed it.
Needless to add, I took care before leaving to lift, forever and
adequately, this source of reproach.
30 September.--The station master was good enough to give me
a line to his old companion the station master at King's Cross,
so that when I arrived there in the morning I was able to ask
him about the arrival of the boxes. He, too put me at once in
communication with the proper officials, and I saw that their
tally was correct with the original invoice. The opportunities
of acquiring an abnormal thirst had been here limited. A noble
use of them had, however, been made, and again I was compelled
to deal with the result in ex post facto manner.
From thence I went to Carter Paterson's central office, where
I met with the utmost courtesy. They looked up the transaction
in their day book and letter book, and at once telephoned to
their King's Cross office for more details. By good fortune, the
men who did the teaming were waiting for work, and the official
at once sent them over, sending also by one of them the way-bill
and all the papers connected with the delivery of the boxes at
Carfax. Here again I found the tally agreeing exactly. The
carriers' men were able to supplement the paucity of the written
words with a few more details. These were, I shortly found,
connected almost solely with the dusty nature of the job, and
the consequent thirst engendered in the operators. On my
affording an opportunity, through the medium of the currency of
the realm, of the allaying, at a later period, this beneficial
evil, one of the men remarked,
"That `ere `ouse, guv'nor, is the rummiest I ever was in.
Blyme! But it ain't been touched sence a hundred years. There
was dust that thick in the place that you might have slep' on it
without `urtin' of yer bones. An' the place was that neglected
that yer might `ave smelled ole Jerusalem in it. But the old
chapel, that took the cike, that did!Me and my mate, we thort we
wouldn't never git out quick enough. Lor', I wouldn't take less
nor a quid a moment to stay there arter dark."
Having been in the house, I could well believe him, but if he
knew what I know, he would, I think have raised his terms.
Of one thing I am now satisfied. That all those boxes which
arrived at Whitby from Varna in the Demeter were safely
deposited in the old chapel at Carfax. There should be fifty of
them there, unless any have since been removed, as from Dr.
Seward's diary I fear.
Later.--Mina and I have worked all day, and we have put all
the papers into order.
MINA HARKER'S JOURNAL
30 September.--I am so glad that I hardly know how to contain
myself. It is, I suppose, the reaction from the haunting fear
which I have had, that this terrible affair and the reopening of
his old wound might act detrimentally on Jonathan. I saw him
leave for Whitby with as brave a face as could, but I was sick
with apprehension. The effort has, however, done him good. He
was never so resolute, never so strong, never so full of
volcanic energy, as at present. It is just as that dear, good
Professor Van Helsing said, he is true grit, and he improves
under strain that would kill a weaker nature. He came back full
of life and hope and determination. We have got everything in
order for tonight. I feel myself quite wild with excitement. I
suppose one ought to pity anything so hunted as the Count. That
is just it. This thing is not human, not even a beast. To read
Dr. Seward's account of poor Lucy's death, and what followed, is
enough to dry up the springs of pity in one's heart.
Later.--Lord Godalming and Mr. Morris arrived earlier than we
expected. Dr. Seward was out on business, and had taken Jonathan
with him, so I had to see them. It was to me a painful meeting,
for it brought back all poor dear Lucy's hopes of only a few
months ago. Of course they had heard Lucy speak of me, and it
seemed that Dr. Van Helsing, too, had been quite `blowing my
trumpet', as Mr. Morris expressed it. Poor fellows, neither of
them is aware that I know all about the proposals they made to
Lucy. They did not quite know what to say or do, as they were
ignorant of the amount of my knowledge. So they had to keep on
neutral subjects. However, I thought the matter over, and came
to the conclusion that the best thing I could do would be to
post them on affairs right up to date. I knew from Dr. Seward's
diary that they had been at Lucy's death, her real death, and
that I need not fear to betray any secret before the time. So I
told them, as well as I could, that I had read all the papers
and diaries, and that my husband and I, having typewritten them,
had just finished putting them in order. I gave them each a copy
to read in the library. When Lord Godalming got his and turned
it over, it does make a pretty good pile, he said, "Did you
write all this, Mrs. Harker?"
I nodded, and he went on.
"I don't quite see the drift of it, but you people are all so
good and kind, and have been working so earnestly and so
energetically, that all I can do is to accept your ideas
blindfold and try to help you. I have had one lesson already in
accepting facts that should make a man humble to the last hour
of his life. Besides, I know you loved my Lucy . . ."
Here he turned away and covered his face with his hands. I
could hear the tears in his voice. Mr. Morris, with instinctive
delicacy, just laid a hand for a moment on his shoulder, and
then walked quietly out of the room. I suppose there is
something in a woman's nature that makes a man free to break
down before her and express his feelings on the tender or
emotional side without feeling it derogatory to his manhood. For
when Lord Godalming found himself alone with me he sat down on
the sofa and gave way utterly and openly. I sat down beside him
and took his hand. I hope he didn't think it forward of me, and
that if her ever thinks of it afterwards he never will have such
a thought. There I wrong him. I know he never will. He is too
true a gentleman. I said to him, for I could see that his heart
was breaking, "I loved dear Lucy, and I know what she was to
you, and what you were to her. She and I were like sisters, and
now she is gone, will you not let me be like a sister to you in
your trouble? I know what sorrows you have had, though I cannot
measure the depth of them. If sympathy and pity can help in your
affliction, won't you let me be of some little service, for
Lucy's sake?"
In an instant the poor dear fellow was overwhelmed with
grief. It seemed to me that all that he had of late been
suffering in silence found a vent at once. He grew quite
hysterical, and raising his open hands, beat his palms together
in a perfect agony of grief. He stood up and then sat down
again, and the tears rained down his cheeks. I felt an infinite
pity for him, and opened my arms unthinkingly. With a sob he
laid his head on my shoulder and cried like a wearied child,
whilst he shook with emotion.
We women have something of the mother in us that makes us
rise above smaller matters when the mother spirit is invoked. I
felt this big sorrowing man's head resting on me, as though it
were that of a baby that some day may lie on my bosom, and I
stroked his hair as though he were my own child. I never thought
at the time how strange it all was.
After a little bit his sobs ceased, and he raised himself
with an apology, though he made no disguise of his emotion. He
told me that for days and nights past, weary days and sleepless
nights, he had been unable to speak with any one, as a man must
speak in his time of sorrow. There was no woman whose sympathy
could be given to him, or with whom, owing to the terrible
circumstance with which his sorrow was surrounded, he could
speak freely.
"I know now how I suffered," he said, as he dried his eyes,
"but I do not know even yet, and none other can ever know, how
much your sweet sympathy has been to me today. I shall know
better in time, and believe me that, though I am not ungrateful
now, my gratitude will grow with my understanding. You will let
me be like a brother, will you not, for all our lives, for dear
Lucy's sake?"
"For dear Lucy's sake," I said as we clasped hands."Ay, and
for your own sake," he added, "for if a man's esteem and
gratitude are ever worth the winning, you have won mine today.
If ever the future should bring to you a time when you need a
man's help, believe me, you will not call in vain. God grant
that no such time may ever come to you to break the sunshine of
your life, but if it should ever come, promise me that you will
let me know."
He was so earnest, and his sorrow was so fresh, that I felt
it would comfort him, so I said, "I promise."
As I came along the corridor I say Mr. Morris looking out of
a window. He turned as he heard my footsteps. "How is Art?" he
said. Then noticing my red eyes, he went on,"Ah, I see you have
been comforting him. Poor old fellow! He needs it. No one but a
woman can help a man when he is in trouble of the heart, and he
had no one to comfort him."
He bore his own trouble so bravely that my heart bled for
him. I saw the manuscript in his hand, and I knew that when he
read it he would realize how much I knew, so I said to him,"I
wish I could comfort all who suffer from the heart. Will you let
me be your friend, and will you come to me for comfort if you
need it? You will know later why I speak."
He saw that I was in earnest, and stooping, took my hand, and
raising it to his lips, kissed it. It seemed but poor comfort to
so brave and unselfish a soul, and impulsively I bent over and
kissed him. The tears rose in his eyes, and there was a
momentary choking in his throat. He said quite calmly,"Little
girl, you will never forget that true hearted kindness, so long
as ever you live!" Then he went into the study to his friend.
"Little girl!" The very words he had used to Lucy, and, oh,
but he proved himself a friend.
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Chapter 18
DR. SEWARD'S DIARY
30 September.--I got home at five o'clock, and found that
Godalming and Morris had not only arrived, but had already
studied the transcript of the various diaries and letters which
Harker had not yet returned from his visit to the carriers' men,
of whom Dr. Hennessey had written to me. Mrs. Harker gave us a
cup of tea, and I can honestly say that, for the first time
since I have lived in it, this old house seemed like home. When
we had finished, Mrs. Harker said,
"Dr. Seward, may I ask a favor? I want to see your patient,
Mr. Renfield. Do let me see him. What you have said of him in
your diary interests me so much!"
She looked so appealing and so pretty that I could not refuse
her, and there was no possible reason why I should, so I took
her with me. When I went into the room, I told the man that a
lady would like to see him, to which he simply answered, "Why?"
"She is going through the house, and wants to see every one
in it," I answered.
"Oh, very well," he said,"let her come in, by all means, but
just wait a minute till I tidy up the place."
His method of tidying was peculiar, he simply swallowed all
the flies and spiders in the boxes before I could stop him. It
was quite evident that he feared, or was jealous of, some
interference. When he had got through his disgusting task, he
said cheerfully, "Let the lady come in," and sat down on the
edge of his bed with his head down, but with his eyelids raised
so that he could see her as she entered. For a moment I thought
that he might have some homicidal intent. I remembered how quiet
he had been just before he attacked me in my own study, and I
took care to stand where I could seize him at once if he
attempted to make a spring at her.
She came into the room with an easy gracefulness which would
at once command the respect of any lunatic, for easiness is one
of the qualities mad people most respect. She walked over to
him, smiling pleasantly, and held out her hand.
"Good evening, Mr. Renfield," said she. "You see, I know you,
for Dr. Seward has told me of you." He made no immediate reply,
but eyed her all over intently with a set frown on his face.
This look gave way to one of wonder, which merged in doubt, then
to my intense astonishment he said, "You're not the girl the
doctor wanted to marry, are you? You can't be, you know, for
she's dead."
Mrs. Harker smiled sweetly as she replied, "Oh no! I have a
husband of my own, to whom I was married before I ever saw Dr.
Seward, or he me. I am Mrs. Harker."
"Then what are you doing here?"
"My husband and I are staying on a visit with Dr. Seward."
"Then don't stay."
"But why not?"
I thought that this style of conversation might not be
pleasant to Mrs. Harker, any more than it was to me, so I joined
in, "How did you know I wanted to marry anyone?"
His reply was simply contemptuous, given in a pause in which
he turned his eyes from Mrs. Harker to me, instantly turning
them back again, "What an asinine question!"
"I don't see that at all, Mr. Renfield,"said Mrs. Harker, at
once championing me.
He replied to her with as much courtesy and respect as he had
shown contempt to me, "You will, of course, understand, Mrs.
Harker, that when a man is so loved and honored as our host is,
everything regarding him is of interest in our little community.
Dr. Seward is loved not only by his household and his friends,
but even by his patients, who, being some of them hardly in
mental equilibrium, are apt to distort causes and effects. Since
I myself have been an inmate of a lunatic asylum, I cannot but
notice that the sophistic tendencies of some of its inmates lean
towards the errors of non causa and ignoratio elenche."
I positively opened my eyes at this new development. Here was
my own pet lunatic, the most pronounced of his type that I had
ever met with, talking elemental philosophy, and with the manner
of a polished gentleman. I wonder if it was Mrs. Harker's
presence which had touched some chord in his memory. If this new
phase was spontaneous, or in any way due to her unconscious
influence, she must have some rare gift or power.
We continued to talk for some time, and seeing that he was
seemingly quite reasonable, she ventured, looking at me
questioningly as she began, to lead him to his favorite topic. I
was again astonished, for he addressed himself to the question
with the impartiality of the completest sanity. He even took
himself as an example when he mentioned certain things.
"Why, I myself am an instance of a man who had a strange
belief. Indeed, it was no wonder that my friends were alarmed,
and insisted on my being put under control. I used to fancy that
life was a positive and perpetual entity, and that by consuming
a multitude of live things, no matter how low in the scale of
creation, one might indefinitely prolong life. At times I held
the belief so strongly that I actually tried to take human life.
The doctor here will bear me out that on one occasion I tried to
kill him for the purpose of strengthening my vital powers by the
assimilation with my own body of his life through the medium of
his blood, relying of course, upon the Scriptural phrase, `For
the blood is the life.' Though, indeed, the vendor of a certain
nostrum has vulgarized the truism to the very point of contempt.
Isn't that true, doctor?"
I nodded assent, for I was so amazed that I hardly knew what
to either think or say, it was hard to imagine that I had seen
him eat up his spiders and flies not five minutes before.
Looking at my watch, I saw that I should go to the station to
meet Van Helsing, so I told Mrs. Harker that it was time to
leave.
She came at once, after saying pleasantly to Mr. Renfield,
"Goodbye, and I hope I may see you often, under auspices
pleasanter to yourself."
To which, to my astonishment, he replied, "Goodbye, my dear.
I pray God I may never see your sweet face again. May He bless
and keep you!"
When I went to the station to meet Van Helsing I left the
boys behind me. Poor Art seemed more cheerful than he has been
since Lucy first took ill, and Quincey is more like his own
bright self than he has been for many a long day.
Van Helsing stepped from the carriage with the eager
nimbleness of a boy. He saw me at once, and rushed up to me,
saying, "Ah, friend John, how goes all? Well? So! I have been
busy, for I come here to stay if need be. All affairs are
settled with me, and I have much to tell. Madam Mina is with
you? Yes. And her so fine husband? And Arthur and my friend
Quincey, they are with you, too? Good!"
As I drove to the house I told him of what had passed, and of
how my own diary had come to be of some use through Mrs.
Harker's suggestion, at which the Professor interrupted me.
"Ah, that wonderful Madam Mina! She has man's brain, a brain
that a man should have were he much gifted, and a woman's heart.
The good God fashioned her for a purpose, believe me, when He
made that so good combination. Friend John, up to now fortune
has made that woman of help to us, after tonight she must not
have to do with this so terrible affair. It is not good that she
run a risk so great. We men are determined, nay, are we not
pledged, to destroy this monster? But it is no part for a woman.
Even if she be not harmed, her heart may fail her in so much and
so many horrors and hereafter she may suffer, both in
waking,from her nerves, and in sleep,from her dreams. And,
besides, she is young woman and not so long married, there may
be other things to think of some time, if not now. You tell me
she has wrote all, then she must consult with us, but tomorrow
she say goodbye to this work, and we go alone."
I agreed heartily with him, and then I told him what we had
found in his absence, that the house which Dracula had bought
was the very next one to my own. He was amazed, and a great
concern seemed to come on him.
"Oh that we had known it before!" he said, "for then we might
have reached him in time to save poor Lucy. However, `the milk
that is spilt cries not out afterwards,'as you say. We shall not
think of that, but go on our way to the end." Then he fell into
a silence that lasted till we entered my own gateway. Before we
went to prepare for dinner he said to Mrs. Harker, "I am told,
Madam Mina, by my friend John that you and your husband have put
up in exact order all things that have been, up to this moment."
"Not up to this moment, Professor,"she said impulsively, "but
up to this morning."
"But why not up to now? We have seen hitherto how good light
all the little things have made. We have told our secrets, and
yet no one who has told is the worse for it."
Mrs. Harker began to blush, and taking a paper from her
pockets, she said, "Dr. Van Helsing, will you read this, and
tell me if it must go in. It is my record of today. I too have
seen the need of putting down at present everything, however
trivial, but there is little in this except what is personal.
Must it go in?"
The Professor read it over gravely, and handed it back,
saying, "It need not go in if you do not wish it, but I pray
that it may. It can but make your husband love you the more, and
all us, your friends, more honor you, as well as more esteem and
love." She took it back with another blush and a bright smile.
And so now, up to this very hour, all the records we have are
complete and in order. The Professor took away one copy to study
after dinner, and before our meeting, which is fixed for nine
o'clock. The rest of us have already read everything, so when we
meet in the study we shall all be informed as to facts, and can
arrange our plan of battle with this terrible and mysterious
enemy.
MINA HARKER'S JOURNAL
30 September.--When we met in Dr. Seward's study two hours
after dinner, which had been at six o'clock, we unconsciously
formed a sort of board or committee. Professor Van Helsing took
the head of the table, to which Dr. Seward motioned him as he
came into the room. He made me sit next to him on his right, and
asked me to act as secretary. Jonathan sat next to me. Opposite
us were Lord Godalming, Dr. Seward, and Mr. Morris, Lord
Godalming being next the Professor, and Dr. Seward in the
center.
The Professor said, "I may, I suppose, take it that we are
all acquainted with the facts that are in these papers." We all
expressed assent, and he went on, "Then it were, I think, good
that I tell you something of the kind of enemy with which we
have to deal. I shall then make known to you something of the
history of this man, which has been ascertained for me. So we
then can discuss how we shall act, and can take our measure
according.
"There are such beings as vampires, some of us have evidence
that they exist. Even had we not the proof of our own unhappy
experience, the teachings and the records of the past give proof
enough for sane peoples. I admit that at the first I was
sceptic. Were it not that through long years I have trained
myself to keep an open mind, I could not have believed until
such time as that fact thunder on my ear.`See! See! I prove, I
prove.' Alas! Had I known at first what now I know, nay, had I
even guess at him, one so precious life had been spared to many
of us who did love her. But that is gone, and we must so work,
that other poor souls perish not, whilst we can save. The
nosferatu do not die like the bee when he sting once. He is only
stronger, and being stronger, have yet more power to work evil.
This vampire which is amongst us is of himself so strong in
person as twenty men, he is of cunning more than mortal, for his
cunning be the growth of ages, he have still the aids of
necromancy, which is, as his etymology imply, the divination by
the dead, and all the dead that he can come nigh to are for him
at command, he is brute, and more than brute, he is devil in
callous, and the heart of him is not, he can, within his range,
direct the elements, the storm, the fog, the thunder, he can
command all the meaner things, the rat, and the owl, and the
bat, the moth, and the fox, and the wolf, he can grow and become
small, and he can at times vanish and come unknown. How then are
we to begin our strike to destroy him? How shall we find his
where, and having found it, how can we destroy? My friends, this
is much, it is a terrible task that we undertake, and there may
be consequence to make the brave shudder. For if we fail in this
our fight he must surely win, and then where end we? Life is
nothings, I heed him not. But to fail here, is not mere life or
death. It is that we become as him, that we henceforward become
foul things of the night like him, without heart or conscience,
preying on the bodies and the souls of those we love best. To us
forever are the gates of heaven shut, for who shall open them to
us again? We go on for all time abhorred by all, a blot on the
face of God's sunshine, an arrow in the side of Him who died for
man. But we are face to face with duty, and in such case must we
shrink? For me, I say no, but then I am old, and life, with his
sunshine, his fair places, his song of birds, his music and his
love, lie far behind. You others are young. Some have seen
sorrow, but there are fair days yet in store. What say you?"
Whilst he was speaking, Jonathan had taken my hand. I feared,
oh so much, that the appalling nature of our danger was
overcoming him when I saw his hand stretch out, but it was life
to me to feel its touch, so strong, so self reliant, so
resolute. A brave man's hand can speak for itself, it does not
even need a woman's love to hear its music.
When the Professor had done speaking my husband looked in my
eyes, and I in his, there was no need for speaking between us.
"I answer for Mina and myself," he said.
"Count me in, Professor," said Mr. Quincey Morris,
laconically as usual.
"I am with you," said Lord Godalming, "for Lucy's sake, if
for no other reason."
Dr. Seward simply nodded.
The Professor stood up and, after laying his golden crucifix
on the table, held out his hand on either side. I took his right
hand, and Lord Godalming his left, Jonathan held my right with
his left and stretched across to Mr. Morris. So as we all took
hands our solemn compact was made. I felt my heart icy cold, but
it did not even occur to me to draw back. We resumed our places,
and Dr. Van Helsing went on with a sort of cheerfulness which
showed that the serious work had begun. It was to be taken as
gravely, and in as businesslike a way, as any other transaction
of life.
"Well, you know what we have to contend against, but we too,
are not without strength. We have on our side power of
combination, a power denied to the vampire kind, we have sources
of science, we are free to act and think, and the hours of the
day and the night are ours equally. In fact, so far as our
powers extend, they are unfettered, and we are free to use them.
We have self devotion in a cause and an end to achieve which is
not a selfish one. These things are much.
"Now let us see how far the general powers arrayed against us
are restrict, and how the individual cannot. In fine, let us
consider the limitations of the vampire in general, and of this
one in particular.
"All we have to go upon are traditions and superstitions.
These do not at the first appear much, when the matter is one of
life and death, nay of more than either life or death. Yet must
we be satisfied, in the first place because we have to be, no
other means is at our control, and secondly, because, after all
these things, tradition and superstition, are everything. Does
not the belief in vampires rest for others, though not, alas!
for us, on them! A year ago which of us would have received such
a possibility, in the midst of our scientific, sceptical,
matter-of-fact nineteenth century? We even scouted a belief that
we saw justified under our very eyes. Take it, then, that the
vampire, and the belief in his limitations and his cure, rest
for the moment on the same base. For, let me tell you, he is
known everywhere that men have been. In old Greece, in old Rome,
he flourish in Germany all over, in France, in India, even in
the Chermosese, and in China, so far from us in all ways, there
even is he, and the peoples for him at this day. He have follow
the wake of the berserker Icelander, the devil-begotten Hun, the
Slav, the Saxon, the Magyar.
"So far, then, we have all we may act upon, and let me tell
you that very much of the beliefs are justified by what we have
seen in our own so unhappy experience. The vampire live on, and
cannot die by mere passing of the time, he can flourish when
that he can fatten on the blood of the living. Even more, we
have seen amongst us that he can even grow younger, that his
vital faculties grow strenuous, and seem as though they refresh
themselves when his special pabulum is plenty.
"But he cannot flourish without this diet, he eat not as
others. Even friend Jonathan, who lived with him for weeks, did
never see him eat, never! He throws no shadow, he make in the
mirror no reflect, as again Jonathan observe. He has the
strength of many of his hand, witness again Jonathan when he
shut the door against the wolves, and when he help him from the
diligence too. He can transform himself to wolf, as we gather
from the ship arrival in Whitby, when he tear open the dog, he
can be as bat, as Madam Mina saw him on the window at Whitby,
and as friend John saw him fly from this so near house, and as
my friend Quincey saw him at the window of Miss Lucy.
"He can come in mist which he create, that noble ship's
captain proved him of this, but, from what we know, the distance
he can make this mist is limited, and it can only be round
himself.
"He come on moonlight rays as elemental dust, as again
Jonathan saw those sisters in the castle of Dracula. He become
so small, we ourselves saw Miss Lucy, ere she was at peace, slip
through a hairbreadth space at the tomb door. He can, when once
he find his way, come out from anything or into anything, no
matter how close it be bound or even fused up with fire, solder
you call it. He can see in the dark, no small power this, in a
world which is one half shut from the light. Ah, but hear me
through.
"He can do all these things, yet he is not free. Nay, he is
even more prisoner than the slave of the galley, than the madman
in his cell. He cannot go where he lists, he who is not of
nature has yet to obey some of nature's laws, why we know not.
He may not enter anywhere at the first, unless there be some one
of the household who bid him to come, though afterwards he can
come as he please. His power ceases, as does that of all evil
things, at the coming of the day.
"Only at certain times can he have limited freedom. If he be
not at the place whither he is bound, he can only change himself
at noon or at exact sunrise or sunset. These things we are told,
and in this record of ours we have proof by inference. Thus,
whereas he can do as he will within his limit, when he have his
earth-home,his coffin-home, his hellhome, the place unhallowed,
as we saw when he went to the grave of the suicide at Whitby,
still at other time he can only change when the time come. It is
said, too, that he can only pass running water at the slack or
the flood of the tide. Then there are things which so afflict
him that he has no power, as the garlic that we know of, and as
for things sacred, as this symbol, my crucifix, that was amongst
us even now when we resolve, to them he is nothing, but in their
presence he take his place far off and silent with respect.
There are others, too, which I shall tell you of, lest in our
seeking we may need them.
"The branch of wild rose on his coffin keep him that he move
not from it, a sacred bullet fired into the coffin kill him so
that he be true dead, and as for the stake through him, we know
already of its peace, or the cut off head that giveth rest. We
have seen it with our eyes.
"Thus when we find the habitation of this man-that-was, we
can confine him to his coffin and destroy him, if we obey what
we know. But he is clever. I have asked my friend Arminius, of
Buda-Pesth University, to make his record, and from all the
means that are, he tell me of what he has been. He must, indeed,
have been that Voivode Dracula who won his name against the
Turk, over the great river on the very frontier of Turkey-land.
If it be so, then was he no common man, for in that time, and
for centuries after, he was spoken of as the cleverest and the
most cunning, as well as the bravest of the sons of the `land
beyond the forest.' That mighty brain and that iron resolution
went with him to his grave, and are even now arrayed against us.
The Draculas were, says Arminius, a great and noble race, though
now and again were scions who were held by their coevals to have
had dealings with the Evil One. They learned his secrets in the
Scholomance, amongst the mountains over Lake Hermanstadt, where
the devil claims the tenth scholar as his due. In the records
are such words as `stregoica' witch, `ordog' and `pokol' Satan
and hell, and in one manuscript this very Dracula is spoken of
as `wampyr,'which we all understand too well. There have been
from the loins of this very one great men and good women, and
their graves make sacred the earth where alone this foulness can
dwell. For it is not the least of its terrors that this evil
thing is rooted deep in all good, in soil barren of holy
memories it cannot rest."
Whilst they were talking Mr. Morris was looking steadily at
the window, and he now got up quietly, and went out of the room.
There was a little pause, and then the Professor went on.
"And now we must settle what we do. We have here much data,
and we must proceed to lay out our campaign. We know from the
inquiry of Jonathan that from the castle to Whitby came fifty
boxes of earth, all of which were delivered at Carfax, we also
know that at least some of these boxes have been removed. It
seems to me, that our first step should be to ascertain whether
all the rest remain in the house beyond that wall where we look
today, or whether any more have been removed. If the latter, we
must trace . . ."
Here we were interrupted in a very startling way. Outside the
house came the sound of a pistol shot, the glass of the window
was shattered with a bullet, which ricochetting from the top of
the embrasure, struck the far wall of the room. I am afraid I am
at heart a coward, for I shrieked out. The men all jumped to
their feet, Lord Godalming flew over to the window and threw up
the sash. As he did so we heard Mr. Morris' voice without,
"Sorry! I fear I have alarmed you. I shall come in and tell you
about it."
A minute later he came in and said, "It was an idiotic thing
of me to do, and I ask your pardon, Mrs. Harker, most sincerely,
I fear I must have frightened you terribly. But the fact is that
whilst the Professor was talking there came a big bat and sat on
the window sill. I have got such a horror of the damned brutes
from recent events that I cannot stand them, and I went out to
have a shot, as I have been doing of late of evenings, whenever
I have seen one. You used to laugh at me for it then, Art."
"Did you hit it?" asked Dr. Van Helsing.
"I don't know, I fancy not, for it flew away into the wood."
Without saying any more he took his seat, and the Professor
began to resume his statement.
"We must trace each of these boxes, and when we are ready, we
must either capture or kill this monster in his lair, or we
must, so to speak, sterilize the earth, so that no more he can
seek safety in it. Thus in the end we may find him in his form
of man between the hours of noon and sunset, and so engage with
him when he is at his most weak.
"And now for you, Madam Mina,this night is the end until all
be well. You are too precious to us to have such risk. When we
part tonight, you no more must question. We shall tell you all
in good time. We are men and are able to bear, but you must be
our star and our hope, and we shall act all the more free that
you are not in the danger, such as we are."
All the men, even Jonathan, seemed relieved, but it did not
seem to me good that they should brave danger and, perhaps
lessen their safety, strength being the best safety, through
care of me, but their minds were made up, and though it was a
bitter pill for me to swallow, I could say nothing, save to
accept their chivalrous care of me.
Mr. Morris resumed the discussion, "As there is no time to
lose, I vote we have a look at his house right now. Time is
everything with him, and swift action on our part may save
another victim."
I own that my heart began to fail me when the time for action
came so close, but I did not say anything, for I had a greater
fear that if I appeared as a drag or a hindrance to their work,
they might even leave me out of their counsels altogether. They
have now gone off to Carfax, with means to get into the house.
Manlike, they had told me to go to bed and sleep, as if a
woman can sleep when those she loves are in danger!I shall lie
down, and pretend to sleep, lest Jonathan have added anxiety
about me when he returns.
DR. SEWARD'S DIARY
1 October, 4 a. m.--Just as we were about to leave the house,
an urgent message was brought to me from Renfield to know if I
would see him at once, as he had something of the utmost
importance to say to me. I told the messenger to say that I
would attend to his wishes in the morning, I was busy just at
the moment.
The attendant added, "He seems very importunate, sir. I have
never seen him so eager. I don't know but what, if you don't see
him soon, he will have one of his violent fits." I knew the man
would not have said this without some cause, so I said, "All
right, I'll go now," and I asked the others to wait a few
minutes for me, as I had to go and see my patient.
"Take me with you, friend John," said the Professor."His case
in your diary interest me much, and it had bearing, too, now and
again on our case. I should much like to see him, and especial
when his mind is disturbed."
"May I come also?" asked Lord Godalming.
"Me too?" said Quincey Morris. "May I come?" said Harker. I
nodded, and we all went down the passage together.
We found him in a state of considerable excitement, but far
more rational in his speech and manner than I had ever seen him.
There was an unusual understanding of himself, which was unlike
anything I had ever met with in a lunatic, and he took it for
granted that his reasons would prevail with others entirely
sane. We all five went into the room, but none of the others at
first said anything. His request was that I would at once
release him from the asylum and send him home. This he backed up
with arguments regarding his complete recovery, and adduced his
own existing sanity.
"I appeal to your friends,"he said,"they will, perhaps, not
mind sitting in judgement on my case. By the way, you have not
introduced me."
I was so much astonished, that the oddness of introducing a
madman in an asylum did not strike me at the moment, and
besides, there was a certain dignity in the man's manner, so
much of the habit of equality, that I at once made the
introduction, "Lord Godalming, Professor Van Helsing, Mr.
Quincey Morris, of Texas, Mr. Jonathan Harker, Mr. Renfield."
He shook hands with each of them, saying in turn, "Lord
Godalming, I had the honor of seconding your father at the
Windham, I grieve to know, by your holding the title, that he is
no more. He was a man loved and honored by all who knew him, and
in his youth was, I have heard, the inventor of a burnt rum
punch, much patronized on Derby night. Mr. Morris, you should be
proud of your great state. Its reception into the Union was a
precedent which may have farreaching effects hereafter, when the
Pole and the Tropics may hold alliance to the Stars and Stripes.
The power of Treaty may yet prove a vast engine of enlargement,
when the Monroe doctrine takes its true place as a political
fable. What shall any man say of his pleasure at meeting Van
Helsing? Sir, I make no apology for dropping all forms of
conventional prefix. When an individual has revolutionized
therapeutics by his discovery of the continuous evolution of
brain matter, conventional forms are unfitting, since they would
seem to limit him to one of a class. You, gentlemen, who by
nationality, by heredity, or by the possession of natural gifts,
are fitted to hold your respective places in the moving world, I
take to witness that I am as sane as at least the majority of
men who are in full possession of their liberties. And I am sure
that you, Dr. Seward, humanitarian and medico-jurist as well as
scientist, will deem it a moral duty to deal with me as one to
be considered as under exceptional circumstances."He made this
last appeal with a courtly air of conviction which was not
without its own charm.
I think we were all staggered. For my own part, I was under
the conviction, despite my knowledge of the man's character and
history, that his reason had been restored, and I felt under a
strong impulse to tell him that I was satisfied as to his
sanity, and would see about the necessary formalities for his
release in the morning. I thought it better to wait, however,
before making so grave a statement, for of old I knew the sudden
changes to which this particular patient was liable. So I
contented myself with making a general statement that he
appeared to be improving very rapidly, that I would have a
longer chat with him in the morning, and would then see what I
could do in the direction of meeting his wishes.
This did not at all satisfy him, for he said quickly, "But I
fear, Dr. Seward, that you hardly apprehend my wish. I desire to
go at once, here, now, this very hour, this very moment, if I
may. Time presses, and in our implied agreement with the old
scytheman it is of the essence of the contract. I am sure it is
only necessary to put before so admirable a practitioner as Dr.
Seward so simple, yet so momentous a wish, to ensure its
fulfilment."
He looked at me keenly, and seeing the negative in my face,
turned to the others, and scrutinized them closely. Not meeting
any sufficient response, he went on, "Is it possible that I have
erred in my supposition?"
"You have," I said frankly, but at the same time, as I felt,
brutally.
There was a considerable pause, and then he said slowly,
"Then I suppose I must only shift my ground of request. Let me
ask for this concession, boon, privilege, what you will. I am
content to implore in such a case, not on personal grounds, but
for the sake of others. I am not at liberty to give you the
whole of my reasons, but you may, I assure you, take it from me
that they are good ones, sound and unselfish, and spring from
the highest sense of duty.
"Could you look, sir, into my heart, you would approve to the
full the sentiments which animate me. Nay, more, you would count
me amongst the best and truest of your friends."
Again he looked at us all keenly. I had a growing conviction
that this sudden change of his entire intellectual method was
but yet another phase of his madness, and so determined to let
him go on a little longer, knowing from experience that he
would, like all lunatics, give himself away in the end. Van
Helsing was gazing at him with a look of utmost intensity, his
bushy eyebrows almost meeting with the fixed concentration of
his look. He said to Renfield in a tone which did not surprise
me at the time, but only when I thought of it afterwards, for it
was as of one addressing an equal, "Can you not tell frankly
your real reason for wishing to be free tonight? I will
undertake that if you will satisfy even me, a stranger, without
prejudice, and with the habit of keeping an open mind, Dr.
Seward will give you, at his own risk and on his own
responsibility, the privilege you seek."
He shook his head sadly, and with a look of poignant regret
on his face. The Professor went on, "Come, sir, bethink
yourself. You claim the privilege of reason in the highest
degree, since you seek to impress us with your complete
reasonableness. You do this, whose sanity we have reason to
doubt, since you are not yet released from medical treatment for
this very defect. If you will not help us in our effort to
choose the wisest course, how can we perform the duty which you
yourself put upon us? Be wise, and help us, and if we can we
shall aid you to achieve your wish."
He still shook his head as he said, "Dr. Van Helsing, I have
nothing to say. Your argument is complete, and if I were free to
speak I should not hesitate a moment, but I am not my own master
in the matter. I can only ask you to trust me. If I am refused,
the responsibility does not rest with me."
I thought it was now time to end the scene, which was
becoming too comically grave, so I went towards the door, simply
saying, "Come, my friends, we have work to do. Goodnight."
As, however, I got near the door, a new change came over the
patient. He moved towards me so quickly that for the moment I
feared that he was about to make another homicidal attack. My
fears, however, were groundless, for he held up his two hands
imploringly, and made his petition in a moving manner. As he saw
that the very excess of his emotion was militating against him,
by restoring us more to our old relations, he became still more
demonstrative. I glanced at Van Helsing, and saw my conviction
reflected in his eyes, so I became a little more fixed in my
manner, if not more stern, and motioned to him that his efforts
were unavailing. I had previously seen something of the same
constantly growing excitement in him when he had to make some
request of which at the time he had thought much, such for
instance, as when he wanted a cat, and I was prepared to see the
collapse into the same sullen acquiescence on this occasion.
My expectation was not realized, for when he found that his
appeal would not be successful, he got into quite a frantic
condition. He threw himself on his knees, and held up his hands,
wringing them in plaintive supplication, and poured forth a
torrent of entreaty, with the tears rolling down his cheeks, and
his whole face and form expressive of the deepest emotion.
"Let me entreat you, Dr. Seward, oh, let me implore you, to
let me out of this house at once. Send me away how you will and
where you will, send keepers with me with whips and chains, let
them take me in a strait waistcoat, manacled and leg-ironed,
even to gaol, but let me go out of this. You don't know what you
do by keeping me here. I am speaking from the depths of my
heart, of my very soul. You don't know whom you wrong, or how,
and I may not tell. Woe is me! I may not tell. By all you hold
sacred, by all you hold dear, by your love that is lost, by your
hope that lives, for the sake of the Almighty, take me out of
this and save my soul from guilt! Can't you hear me, man? Can't
you understand? Will you never learn? Don't you know that I am
sane and earnest now, that I am no lunatic in a mad fit, but a
sane man fighting for his soul? Oh, hear me! Hear me! Let me go,
let me go, let me go!"
I thought that the longer this went on the wilder he would
get, and so would bring on a fit, so I took him by the hand and
raised him up.
"Come," I said sternly, "no more of this, we have had quite
enough already. Get to your bed and try to behave more
discreetly."
He suddenly stopped and looked at me intently for several
moments. Then, without a word, he rose and moving over, sat down
on the side of the bed. The collapse had come, as on former
occasions, just as I had expected.
When I was leaving the room, last of our party, he said to me
in a quiet, well-bred voice, "You will, I trust, Dr. Seward, do
me the justice to bear in mind, later on, that I did what I
could to convince you tonight."
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Chapter 19
JONATHAN HARKER'S JOURNAL
1 October, 5 a. m.--I went with the party to the search with
an easy mind, for I think I never saw Mina so absolutely strong
and well. I am so glad that she consented to hold back and let
us men do the work. Somehow, it was a dread to me that she was
in this fearful business at all, but now that her work is done,
and that it is due to her energy and brains and foresight that
the whole story is put together in such a way that every point
tells, she may well feel that her part is finished, and that she
can henceforth leave the rest to us. We were, I think, all a
little upset by the scene with Mr. Renfield. When we came away
from his room we were silent till we got back to the study.
Then Mr. Morris said to Dr. Seward, "Say, Jack, if that man
wasn't attempting a bluff, he is about the sanest lunatic I ever
saw. I'm not sure, but I believe that he had some serious
purpose, and if he had, it was pretty rough on him not to get a
chance."
Lord Godalming and I were silent, but Dr. Van Helsing added,
"Friend John, you know more lunatics than I do, and I'm glad of
it, for I fear that if it had been to me to decide I would
before that last hysterical outburst have given him free. But we
live and learn, and in our present task we must take no chance,
as my friend Quincey would say. All is best as they are."
Dr. Seward seemed to answer them both in a dreamy kind of
way, "I don't know but that I agree with you. If that man had
been an ordinary lunatic I would have taken my chance of
trusting him, but he seems so mixed up with the Count in an
indexy kind of way that I am afraid of doing anything wrong by
helping his fads. I can't forget how he prayed with almost equal
fervor for a cat, and then tried to tear my throat out with his
teeth. Besides, he called the Count `lord and master', and he
may want to get out to help him in some diabolical way. That
horrid thing has the wolves and the rats and his own kind to
help him, so I suppose he isn't above trying to use a
respectable lunatic. He certainly did seem earnest, though. I
only hope we have done what is best. These things, in
conjunction with the wild work we have in hand, help to unnerve
a man."
The Professor stepped over, and laying his hand on his
shoulder, said in his grave, kindly way, "Friend John, have no
fear. We are trying to do our duty in a very sad and terrible
case, we can only do as we deem best. What else have we to hope
for, except the pity of the good God?"
Lord Godalming had slipped away for a few minutes, but now he
returned. He held up a little silver whistle, as he remarked,
"That old place may be full of rats, and if so, I've got an
antidote on call."
Having passed the wall, we took our way to the house, taking
care to keep in the shadows of the trees on the lawn when the
moonlight shone out. When we got to the porch the Professor
opened his bag and took out a lot of things, which he laid on
the step, sorting them into four little groups, evidently one
for each. Then he spoke.
"My friends, we are going into a terrible danger, and we need
arms of many kinds. Our enemy is not merely spiritual. Remember
that he has the strength of twenty men, and that, though our
necks or our windpipes are of the common kind, and therefore
breakable or crushable, his are not amenable to mere strength. A
stronger man, or a body of men more strong in all than him, can
at certain times hold him, but they cannot hurt him as we can be
hurt by him. We must, therefore, guard ourselves from his touch.
Keep this near your heart." As he spoke he lifted a little
silver crucifix and held it out to me, I being nearest to him,
"put these flowers round your neck," here he handed to me a
wreath of withered garlic blossoms, "for other enemies more
mundane, this revolver and this knife, and for aid in all, these
so small electric lamps, which you can fasten to your breast,
and for all, and above all at the last, this, which we must not
desecrate needless."
This was a portion of Sacred Wafer, which he put in an
envelope and handed to me. Each of the others was similarly
equipped.
"Now,"he said,"friend John, where are the skeleton keys? If
so that we can open the door, we need not break house by the
window, as before at Miss Lucy's."
Dr. Seward tried one or two skeleton keys, his mechanical
dexterity as a surgeon standing him in good stead. Presently he
got one to suit, after a little play back and forward the bolt
yielded, and with a rusty clang, shot back. We pressed on the
door, the rusty hinges creaked, and it slowly opened. It was
startlingly like the image conveyed to me in Dr. Seward's diary
of the opening of Miss Westenra's tomb, I fancy that the same
idea seemed to strike the others, for with one accord they
shrank back. The Professor was the first to move forward, and
stepped into the open door.
"In manus tuas, Domine!"he said, crossing himself as he
passed over the threshold. We closed the door behind us, lest
when we should have lit our lamps we should possibly attract
attention from the road. The Professor carefully tried the lock,
lest we might not be able to open it from within should we be in
a hurry making our exit. Then we all lit our lamps and proceeded
on our search.
The light from the tiny lamps fell in all sorts of odd forms,
as the rays crossed each other, or the opacity of our bodies
threw great shadows. I could not for my life get away from the
feeling that there was someone else amongst us. I suppose it was
the recollection, so powerfully brought home to me by the grim
surroundings, of that terrible experience in Transylvania. I
think the feeling was common to us all, for I noticed that the
others kept looking over their shoulders at every sound and
every new shadow, just as I felt myself doing.
The whole place was thick with dust. The floor was seemingly
inches deep, except where there were recent footsteps, in which
on holding down my lamp I could see marks of hobnails where the
dust was cracked. The walls were fluffy and heavy with dust, and
in the corners were masses of spider's webs, whereon the dust
had gathered till they looked like old tattered rags as the
weight had torn them partly down. On a table in the hall was a
great bunch of keys, with a timeyellowed label on each. They had
been used several times, for on the table were several similar
rents in the blanket of dust, similar to that exposed when the
Professor lifted them.
He turned to me and said,"You know this place, Jonathan. You
have copied maps of it, and you know it at least more than we
do. Which is the way to the chapel?"
I had an idea of its direction, though on my former visit I
had not been able to get admission to it, so I led the way, and
after a few wrong turnings found myself opposite a low, arched
oaken door, ribbed with iron bands.
"This is the spot," said the Professor as he turned his lamp
on a small map of the house, copied from the file of my original
correspondence regarding the purchase. With a little trouble we
found the key on the bunch and opened the door. We were prepared
for some unpleasantness, for as we were opening the door a
faint, malodorous air seemed to exhale through the gaps, but
none of us ever expected such an odor as we encountered. None of
the others had met the Count at all at close quarters, and when
I had seen him he was either in the fasting stage of his
existence in his rooms or, when he was bloated with fresh blood,
in a ruined building open to the air, but here the place was
small and close, and the long disuse had made the air stagnant
and foul. There was an earthy smell, as of some dry miasma,
which came through the fouler air. But as to the odor itself,
how shall I describe it? It was not alone that it was composed
of all the ills of mortality and with the pungent, acrid smell
of blood, but it seemed as though corruption had become itself
corrupt. Faugh! It sickens me to think of it. Every breath
exhaled by that monster seemed to have clung to the place and
intensified its loathsomeness.
Under ordinary circumstances such a stench would have brought
our enterprise to an end, but this was no ordinary case, and the
high and terrible purpose in which we were involved gave us a
strength which rose above merely physical considerations. After
the involuntary shrinking consequent on the first nauseous
whiff, we one and all set about our work as though that
loathsome place were a garden of roses.
We made an accurate examination of the place, the Professor
saying as we began, "The first thing is to see how many of the
boxes are left, we must then examine every hole and corner and
cranny and see if we cannot get some clue as to what has become
of the rest."
A glance was sufficient to show how many remained, for the
great earth chests were bulky, and there was no mistaking them.
There were only twenty-nine left out of the fifty! Once I got
a fright, for, seeing Lord Godalming suddenly turn and look out
of the vaulted door into the dark passage beyond, I looked too,
and for an instant my heart stood still. Somewhere, looking out
from the shadow, I seemed to see the high lights of the Count's
evil face, the ridge of the nose, the red eyes, the red lips,
the awful pallor. It was only for a moment, for, as Lord
Godalming said,"I thought I saw a face, but it was only the
shadows," and resumed his inquiry, I turned my lamp in the
direction, and stepped into the passage. There was no sign of
anyone, and as there were no corners, no doors, no aperture of
any kind, but only the solid walls of the passage, there could
be no hiding place even for him. I took it that fear had helped
imagination, and said nothing.
A few minutes later I saw Morris step suddenly back from a
corner, which he was examining. We all followed his movements
with our eyes, for undoubtedly some nervousness was growing on
us, and we saw a whole mass of phosphorescence, which twinkled
like stars. We all instinctively drew back. The whole place was
becoming alive with rats.
For a moment or two we stood appalled, all save Lord
Godalming, who was seemingly prepared for such an emergency.
Rushing over to the great iron-bound oaken door, which Dr.
Seward had described from the outside, and which I had seen
myself, he turned the key in the lock, drew the huge bolts, and
swung the door open. Then, taking his little silver whistle from
his pocket, he blew a low, shrill call. It was answered from
behind Dr. Seward's house by the yelping of dogs, and after
about a minute three terriers came dashing round the corner of
the house. Unconsciously we had all moved towards the door, and
as we moved I noticed that the dust had been much disturbed. The
boxes which had been taken out had been brought this way. But
even in the minute that had elapsed the number of the rats had
vastly increased. They seemed to swarm over the place all at
once, till the lamplight, shining on their moving dark bodies
and glittering, baleful eyes, made the place look like a bank of
earth set with fireflies. The dogs dashed on, but at the
threshold suddenly stopped and snarled, and then,simultaneously
lifting their noses, began to howl in most lugubrious fashion.
The rats were multiplying in thousands, and we moved out.
Lord Godalming lifted one of the dogs, and carrying him in,
placed him on the floor. The instant his feet touched the ground
he seemed to recover his courage, and rushed at his natural
enemies. They fled before him so fast that before he had shaken
the life out of a score, the other dogs, who had by now been
lifted in the same manner, had but small prey ere the whole mass
had vanished.
With their going it seemed as if some evil presence had
departed, for the dogs frisked about and barked merrily as they
made sudden darts at their prostrate foes, and turned them over
and over and tossed them in the air with vicious shakes. We all
seemed to find our spirits rise. Whether it was the purifying of
the deadly atmosphere by the opening of the chapel door, or the
relief which we experienced by finding ourselves in the open I
know not, but most certainly the shadow of dread seemed to slip
from us like a robe, and the occasion of our coming lost
something of its grim significance, though we did not slacken a
whit in our resolution. We closed the outer door and barred and
locked it, and bringing the dogs with us, began our search of
the house. We found nothing throughout except dust in
extraordinary proportions, and all untouched save for my own
footsteps when I had made my first visit. Never once did the
dogs exhibit any symptom of uneasiness, and even when we
returned to the chapel they frisked about as though they had
been rabbit hunting in a summer wood.
The morning was quickening in the east when we emerged from
the front. Dr. Van Helsing had taken the key of the hall door
from the bunch, and locked the door in orthodox fashion, putting
the key into his pocket when he had done.
"So far," he said, "our night has been eminently successful.
No harm has come to us such as I feared might be and yet we have
ascertained how many boxes are missing. More than all do I
rejoice that this, our first, and perhaps our most difficult and
dangerous, step has been accomplished without the bringing
thereinto our most sweet Madam Mina or troubling her waking or
sleeping thoughts with sights and sounds and smells of horror
which she might never forget. One lesson, too, we have learned,
if it be allowable to argue a particulari, that the brute beasts
which are to the Count's command are yet themselves not amenable
to his spiritual power, for look, these rats that would come to
his call, just as from his castle top he summon the wolves to
your going and to that poor mother's cry, though they come to
him, they run pell-mell from the so little dogs of my friend
Arthur. We have other matters before us, other dangers, other
fears, and that monster . . . He has not used his power over the
brute world for the only or the last time tonight. So be it that
he has gone elsewhere. Good! It has given us opportunity to cry
`check'in some ways in this chess game, which we play for the
stake of human souls. And now let us go home. The dawn is close
at hand, and we have reason to be content with our first night's
work. It may be ordained that we have many nights and days to
follow, if full of peril, but we must go on, and from no danger
shall we shrink."
The house was silent when we got back, save for some poor
creature who was screaming away in one of the distant wards, and
a low, moaning sound from Renfield's room. The poor wretch was
doubtless torturing himself, after the manner of the insane,
with needless thoughts of pain.
I came tiptoe into our own room, and found Mina asleep,
breathing so softly that I had to put my ear down to hear it.
She looks paler than usual. I hope the meeting tonight has not
upset her. I am truly thankful that she is to be left out of our
future work, and even of our deliberations. It is too great a
strain for a woman to bear. I did not think so at first, but I
know better now. Therefore I am glad that it is settled. There
may be things which would frighten her to hear, and yet to
conceal them from her might be worse than to tell her if once
she suspected that there was any concealment. Henceforth our
work is to be a sealed book to her, till at least such time as
we can tell her that all is finished, and the earth free from a
monster of the nether world. I daresay it will be difficult to
begin to keep silence after such confidence as ours, but I must
be resolute, and tomorrow I shall keep dark over tonight's
doings, and shall refuse to speak of anything that has happened.
I rest on the sofa, so as not to disturb her.
1 October, later.--I suppose it was natural that we should
have all overslept ourselves, for the day was a busy one, and
the night had no rest at all. Even Mina must have felt its
exhaustion, for though I slept till the sun was high, I was
awake before her, and had to call two or three times before she
awoke. Indeed, she was so sound asleep that for a few seconds
she did not recognize me, but looked at me with a sort of blank
terror, as one looks who has been waked out of a bad dream. She
complained a little of being tired, and I let her rest till
later in the day. We now know of twenty-one boxes having been
removed, and if it be that several were taken in any of these
removals we may be able to trace them all. Such will, of course,
immensely simplify our labor, and the sooner the matter is
attended to the better. I shall look up Thomas Snelling today.
DR. SEWARD'S DIARY
1 October.--It was towards noon when I was awakened by the
Professor walking into my room. He was more jolly and cheerful
than usual, and it is quite evident that last night's work has
helped to take some of the brooding weight off his mind.
After going over the adventure of the night he suddenly said,
"Your patient interests me much. May it be that with you I visit
him this morning? Or if that you are too occupy, I can go alone
if it may be. It is a new experience to me to find a lunatic who
talk philosophy, and reason so sound."
I had some work to do which pressed, so I told him that if he
would go alone I would be glad, as then I should not have to
keep him waiting, so I called an attendant and gave him the
necessary instructions. Before the Professor left the room I
cautioned him against getting any false impression from my
patient.
"But," he answered, "I want him to talk of himself and of his
delusion as to consuming live things. He said to Madam Mina, as
I see in your diary of yesterday, that he had once had such a
belief. Why do you smile, friend John?"
"Excuse me," I said, "but the answer is here." I laid my hand
on the typewritten matter."When our sane and learned lunatic
made that very statement of how he used to consume life, his
mouth was actually nauseous with the flies and spiders which he
had eaten just before Mrs. Harker entered the room."
Van Helsing smiled in turn. "Good!" he said. "Your memory is
true, friend John. I should have remembered. And yet it is this
very obliquity of thought and memory which makes mental disease
such a fascinating study. Perhaps I may gain more knowledge out
of the folly of this madman than I shall from the teaching of
the most wise. Who knows?"
I went on with my work, and before long was through that in
hand. It seemed that the time had been very short indeed, but
there was Van Helsing back in the study.
"Do I interrupt?" he asked politely as he stood at the door.
"Not at all,"I answered. "Come in. My work is finished, and I
am free. I can go with you now, if you like."
"It is needless, I have seen him!"
"Well?"
"I fear that he does not appraise me at much. Our interview
was short. When I entered his room he was sitting on a stool in
the center, with his elbows on his knees, and his face was the
picture of sullen discontent. I spoke to him as cheerfully as I
could, and with such a measure of respect as I could assume. He
made no reply whatever. 'Don't you know me?' I asked. His answer
was not reassuring. "I know you well enough, you are the old
fool Van Helsing. I wish you would take yourself and your
idiotic brain theories somewhere else. Damn all thick-headed
Dutchmen!' Not a word more would he say, but sat in his
implacable sullenness as indifferent to me as though I had not
been in the room at all. Thus departed for this time my chance
of much learning from this so clever lunatic, so I shall go, if
I may, and cheer myself with a few happy words with that sweet
soul Madam Mina. Friend John, it does rejoice me unspeakable
that she is no more to be pained, no more to be worried with our
terrible things. Though we shall much miss her help, it is
better so."
"I agree with you with all my heart," I answered earnestly,
for I did not want him to weaken in this matter. "Mrs. Harker is
better out of it. Things are quite bad enough for us, all men of
the world, and who have been in many tight places in our time,
but it is no place for a woman, and if she had remained in touch
with the affair, it would in time infallibly have wrecked her."
So Van Helsing has gone to confer with Mrs. Harker and
Harker, Quincey and Art are all out following up the clues as to
the earth boxes. I shall finish my round of work and we shall
meet tonight.
MINA HARKER'S JOURNAL
1 October.--It is strange to me to be kept in the dark as I
am today, after Jonathan's full confidence for so many years, to
see him manifestly avoid certain matters, and those the most
vital of all. This morning I slept late after the fatigues of
yesterday, and though Jonathan was late too, he was the earlier.
He spoke to me before he went out, never more sweetly or
tenderly, but he never mentioned a word of what had happened in
the visit to the Count's house. And yet he must have known how
terribly anxious I was. Poor dear fellow! I suppose it must have
distressed him even more than it did me. They all agreed that it
was best that I should not be drawn further into this awful
work, and I acquiesced. But to think that he keeps anything from
me! And now I am crying like a silly fool, when I know it comes
from my husband's great love and from the good, good wishes of
those other strong men.
That has done me good. Well, some day Jonathan will tell me
all. And lest it should ever be that he should think for a
moment that I kept anything from him, I still keep my journal as
usual. Then if he has feared of my trust I shall show it to him,
with every thought of my heart put down for his dear eyes to
read. I feel strangely sad and low-spirited today. I suppose it
is the reaction from the terrible excitement.
Last night I went to bed when the men had gone, simply
because they told me to. I didn't feel sleepy, and I did feel
full of devouring anxiety. I kept thinking over everything that
has been ever since Jonathan came to see me in London, and it
all seems like a horrible tragedy, with fate pressing on
relentlessly to some destined end. Everything that one does
seems, no matter how right it me be, to bring on the very thing
which is most to be deplored. If I hadn't gone to Whitby,
perhaps poor dear Lucy would be with us now. She hadn't taken to
visiting the churchyard till I came, and if she hadn't come
there in the day time with me she wouldn't have walked in her
sleep. And if she hadn't gone there at night and asleep, that
monster couldn't have destroyed her as he did. Oh, why did I
ever go to Whitby? There now, crying again! I wonder what has
come over me today. I must hide it from Jonathan, for if he knew
that I had been crying twice in one morning . . . I, who never
cried on my own account, and whom he has never caused to shed a
tear, the dear fellow would fret his heart out. I shall put a
bold face on, and if I do feel weepy, he shall never see it. I
suppose it is just one of the lessons that we poor women have to
learn . . .
I can't quite remember how I fell asleep last night. I
remember hearing the sudden barking of the dogs and a lot of
queer sounds, like praying on a very tumultuous scale, from Mr.
Renfield's room, which is somewhere under this. And then there
was silence over everything, silence so profound that it
startled me, and I got up and looked out of the window. All was
dark and silent, the black shadows thrown by the moonlight
seeming full of a silent mystery of their own. Not a thing
seemed to be stirring, but all to be grim and fixed as death or
fate, so that a thin streak of white mist,that crept with almost
imperceptible slowness across the grass towards the house,
seemed to have a sentience and a vitality of its own. I think
that the digression of my thoughts must have done me good, for
when I got back to bed I found a lethargy creeping over me. I
lay a while, but could not quite sleep, so I got out and looked
out of the window again. The mist was spreading, and was now
close up to the house, so that I could see it lying thick
against the wall, as though it were stealing up to the windows.
The poor man was more loud than ever, and though I could not
distinguish a word he said, I could in some way recognize in his
tones some passionate entreaty on his part. Then there was the
sound of a struggle, and I knew that the attendants were dealing
with him. I was so frightened that I crept into bed, and pulled
the clothes over my head, putting my fingers in my ears. I was
not then a bit sleepy, at least so I thought, but I must have
fallen asleep, for except dreams, I do not remember anything
until the morning, when Jonathan woke me. I think that it took
me an effort and a little time to realize where I was, and that
it was Jonathan who was bending over me. My dream was very
peculiar, and was almost typical of the way that waking thoughts
become merged in, or continued in, dreams.
I thought that I was asleep, and waiting for Jonathan to come
back. I was very anxious about him, and I was powerless to act,
my feet, and my hands, and my brain were weighted, so that
nothing could proceed at the usual pace. And so I slept uneasily
and thought. Then it began to dawn upon me that the air was
heavy, and dank, and cold. I put back the clothes from my face,
and found, to my surprise, that all was dim around. The gaslight
which I had left lit for Jonathan, but turned down, came only
like a tiny red spark through the fog, which had evidently grown
thicker and poured into the room. Then it occurred to me that I
had shut the window before I had come to bed. I would have got
out to make certain on the point, but some leaden lethargy
seemed to chain my limbs and even my will. I lay still and
endured, that was all. I closed my eyes, but could still see
through my eyelids. (It is wonderful what tricks our dreams play
us, and how conveniently we can imagine.) The mist grew thicker
and thicker and I could see now how it came in, for I could see
it like smoke, or with the white energy of boiling water,
pouring in, not through the window, but through the joinings of
the door. It got thicker and thicker, till it seemed as if it
became concentrated into a sort of pillar of cloud in the room,
through the top of which I could see the light of the gas
shining like a red eye. Things began to whirl through my brain
just as the cloudy column was now whirling in the room, and
through it all came the scriptural words "a pillar of cloud by
day and of fire by night." Was it indeed such spiritual guidance
that was coming to me in my sleep? But the pillar was composed
of both the day and the night guiding, for the fire was in the
red eye, which at the thought gat a new fascination for me,
till, as I looked, the fire divided, and seemed to shine on me
through the fog like two red eyes, such as Lucy told me of in
her momentary mental wandering when, on the cliff, the dying
sunlight struck the windows of St. Mary's Church. Suddenly the
horror burst upon me that it was thus that Jonathan had seen
those awful women growing into reality through the whirling mist
in the moonlight, and in my dream I must have fainted, for all
became black darkness. The last conscious effort which
imagination made was to show me a livid white face bending over
me out of the mist.
I must be careful of such dreams, for they would unseat one's
reason if there were too much of them. I would get Dr. Van
Helsing or Dr. Seward to prescribe something for me which would
make me sleep, only that I fear to alarm them. Such a dream at
the present time would become woven into their fears for me.
Tonight I shall strive hard to sleep naturally. If I do not, I
shall tomorrow night get them to give me a dose of chloral, that
cannot hurt me for once, and it will give me a good night's
sleep. Last night tired me more than if I had not slept at all.
2 October 10 p. m.--Last night I slept, but did not dream. I
must have slept soundly, for I was not waked by Jonathan coming
to bed, but the sleep has not refreshed me, for today I feel
terribly weak and spiritless. I spent all yesterday trying to
read, or lying down dozing. In the afternon, Mr. Renfield asked
if he might see me.Poor man, he was very gentle, and when I came
away he kissed my hand and bade God bless me. Some way it
affected me much. I am crying when I think of him. This is a new
weakness, of which I must be careful. Jonathan would be
miserable if he knew I had been crying. He and the others were
out till dinner time, and they all came in tired. I did what I
could to brighten them up, and I suppose that the effort did me
good, for I forgot how tired I was. After dinner they sent me to
bed, and all went off to smoke together, as they said, but I
knew that they wanted to tell each other of what had occurred to
each during the day. I could see from Jonathan's manner that he
had something important to communicate. I was not so sleepy as I
should have been, so before they went I asked Dr. Seward to give
me a little opiate of some kind, as I had not slept well the
night before. He very kindly made me up a sleeping draught,
which he gave to me, telling me that it would do me no harm, as
it was very mild . . . I have taken it, and am waiting for
sleep, which still keeps aloof. I hope I have not done wrong,
for as sleep begins to flirt with me, a new fear comes, that I
may have been foolish in thus depriving myself of the power of
waking. I might want it. Here comes sleep. Goodnight.
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Chapter 20
JONATHAN HARKER'S JOURNAL
1 October, evening.--I found Thomas Snelling in his house at
Bethnal Green, but unhappily he was not in a condition to
remember anything. The very prospect of beer which my expected
coming had opened to him had proved too much, and he had begun
too early on his expected debauch. I learned, however, from his
wife, who seemed a decent, poor soul, that he was only the
assistant of Smollet, who of the two mates was the responsible
person. So off I drove to Walworth, and found Mr. Joseph Smollet
at home and in his shirtsleeves, taking a late tea out of a
saucer. He is a decent, intelligent fellow, distinctly a good,
reliable type of workman, and with a headpiece of his own. He
remembered all about the incident of the boxes, and from a
wonderful dog-eared notebook, which he produced from some
mysterious receptacle about the seat of his trousers, and which
had hieroglyphical entries in thick, half-obliterated pencil, he
gave me the destinations of the boxes. There were, he said, six
in the cartload which he took from Carfax and left at 197
Chicksand Street, Mile End New Town, and another six which he
deposited at Jamaica Lane, Bermondsey. If then the Count meant
to scatter these ghastly refuges of his over London, these
places were chosen as the first of delivery, so that later he
might distribute more fully. The systematic manner in which this
was done made me think that he could not mean to confine himself
to two sides of London. He was now fixed on the far east on the
northern shore, on the east of the southern shore, and on the
south. The north and west were surely never meant to be left out
of his diabolical scheme, let alone the City itself and the very
heart of fashionable London in the south-west and west. I went
back to Smollet, and asked him if he could tell us if any other
boxes had been taken from Carfax.
He replied, "Well guv'nor, you've treated me very 'an'some",
I had given him half a sovereign, "an I'll tell yer all I know.
I heard a man by the name of Bloxam say four nights ago in the
'Are an' 'Ounds, in Pincher's Alley, as 'ow he an' his mate 'ad
'ad a rare dusty job in a old 'ouse at Purfleet. There ain't a
many such jobs as this 'ere, an' I'm thinkin' that maybe Sam
Bloxam could tell ye summut."
I asked if he could tell me where to find him. I told him
that if he could get me the address it would be worth another
half sovereign to him. So he gulped down the rest of his tea and
stood up, saying that he was going to begin the search then and
there.
At the door he stopped, and said, "Look 'ere, guv'nor, there
ain't no sense in me a keepin' you 'ere. I may find Sam soon, or
I mayn't, but anyhow he ain't like to be in a way to tell ye
much tonight. Sam is a rare one when he starts on the booze. If
you can give me a envelope with a stamp on it, and put yer
address on it, I'll find out where Sam is to be found and post
it ye tonight. But ye'd better be up arter 'im soon in the
mornin', never mind the booze the night afore."
This was all practical, so one of the children went off with
a penny to buy an envelope and a sheet of paper, and to keep the
change. When she came back, I addressed the envelope and stamped
it, and when Smollet had again faithfully promised to post the
address when found, I took my way to home. We're on the track
anyhow. I am tired tonight, and I want to sleep. Mina is fast
asleep, and looks a little too pale. Her eyes look as though she
had been crying. Poor dear, I've no doubt it frets her to be
kept in the dark, and it may make her doubly anxious about me
and the others. But it is best as it is. It is better to be
disappointed and worried in such a way now than to have her
nerve broken. The doctors were quite right to insist on her
being kept out of this dreadful business. I must be firm, for on
me this particular burden of silence must rest. I shall not ever
enter on the subject with her under any circumstances. Indeed,
It may not be a hard task, after all, for she herself has become
reticent on the subject, and has not spoken of the Count or his
doings ever since we told her of our decision.
2 October, evening--A long and trying and exciting day. By
the first post I got my directed envelope with a dirty scrap of
paper enclosed, on which was written with a carpenter's pencil
in a sprawling hand, "Sam Bloxam, Korkrans, 4 Poters Cort,
Bartel Street, Walworth. Arsk for the depite."
I got the letter in bed, and rose without waking Mina. She
looked heavy and sleepy and pale, and far from well. I
determined not to wake her, but that when I should return from
this new search, I would arrange for her going back to Exeter. I
think she would be happier in our own home, with her daily tasks
to interest her, than in being here amongst us and in ignorance.
I only saw Dr. Seward for a moment, and told him where I was off
to, promising to come back and tell the rest so soon as I should
have found out anything. I drove to Walworth and found, with
some difficulty, Potter's Court. Mr. Smollet's spelling misled
me, as I asked for Poter's Court instead of Potter's Court.
However, when I had found the court, I had no difficulty in
discovering Corcoran's lodging house.
When I asked the man who came to the door for the "depite,"
he shook his head, and said, "I dunno 'im. There ain't no such a
person 'ere. I never 'eard of 'im in all my bloomin' days. Don't
believe there ain't nobody of that kind livin' 'ere or
anywheres."
I took out Smollet's letter, and as I read it it seemed to me
that the lesson of the spelling of the name of the court might
guide me. "What are you?" I asked.
"I'm the depity," he answered.
I saw at once that I was on the right track. Phonetic
spelling had again misled me. A half crown tip put the deputy's
knowledge at my disposal, and I learned that Mr. Bloxam, who had
slept off the remains of his beer on the previous night at
Corcoran's, had left for his work at Poplar at five o'clock that
morning. He could not tell me where the place of work was
situated, but he had a vague idea that it was some kind of a
"new-fangled ware'us," and with this slender clue I had to start
for Poplar. It was twelve o'clock before I got any satisfactory
hint of such a building, and this I got at a coffee shop, where
some workmen were having their dinner. One of them suggested
that there was being erected at Cross Angel Street a new "cold
storage" building, and as this suited the condition of a
"new-fangled ware'us," I at once drove to it. An interview with
a surly gatekeeper and a surlier foreman, both of whom were
appeased with the coin of the realm, put me on the track of
Bloxam. He was sent for on my suggestion that I was willing to
pay his days wages to his foreman for the privilege of asking
him a few questions on a private matter. He was a smart enough
fellow, though rough of speech and bearing. When I had promised
to pay for his information and given him an earnest, he told me
that he had made two journeys between Carfax and a house in
Piccadilly, and had taken from this house to the latter nine
great boxes, "main heavy ones," with a horse and cart hired by
him for this purpose.
I asked him if he could tell me the number of the house in
Piccadilly, to which he replied, "Well, guv'nor, I forgits the
number, but it was only a few door from a big white church, or
somethink of the kind, not long built. It was a dusty old 'ouse,
too, though nothin' to the dustiness of the 'ouse we tooked the
bloomin' boxes from."
"How did you get in if both houses were empty?"
"There was the old party what engaged me a waitin' in the
'ouse at Purfleet. He 'elped me to lift the boxes and put them
in the dray. Curse me, but he was the strongest chap I ever
struck, an' him a old feller, with a white moustache, one that
thin you would think he couldn't throw a shadder."
How this phrase thrilled through me!
"Why, 'e took up 'is end o' the boxes like they was pounds of
tea, and me a puffin' an' a blowin' afore I could upend mine
anyhow, an' I'm no chicken, neither."
"How did you get into the house in Piccadilly?" I asked.
"He was there too. He must 'a started off and got there afore
me, for when I rung of the bell he kem an' opened the door
'isself an' 'elped me carry the boxes into the 'all."
"The whole nine?" I asked.
"Yus, there was five in the first load an' four in the
second. It was main dry work, an' I don't so well remember 'ow I
got 'ome."
I interrupted him, "Were the boxes left in the hall?"
"Yus, it was a big 'all, an' there was nothin' else in it."
I made one more attempt to further matters. "You didn't have
any key?"
"Never used no key nor nothink. The old gent, he opened the
door 'isself an' shut it again when I druv off. I don't remember
the last time, but that was the beer."
"And you can't remember the number of the house?"
"No, sir. But ye needn't have no difficulty about that. It's
a 'igh 'un with a stone front with a bow on it, an' 'igh steps
up to the door. I know them steps, 'avin' 'ad to carry the boxes
up with three loafers what come round to earn a copper. The old
gent give them shillin's, an' they seein' they got so much, they
wanted more. But 'e took one of them by the shoulder and was
like to throw 'im down the steps, till the lot of them went away
cussin'."
I thought that with this description I could find the house,
so having paid my friend for his information, I started off for
Piccadilly. I had gained a new painful experience. The Count
could, it was evident, handle the earth boxes himself. If so,
time was precious, for now that he had achieved a certain amount
of distribution, he could, by choosing his own time, complete
the task unobserved. At Piccadilly Circus I discharged my cab,
and walked westward. Beyond the Junior Constitutional I came
across the house described and was satisfied that this was the
next of the lairs arranged by Dracula. The house looked as
though it had been long untenanted. The windows were encrusted
with dust, and the shutters were up. All the framework was black
with time, and from the iron the paint had mostly scaled away.
It was evident that up to lately there had been a large notice
board in front of the balcony. It had, however, been roughly
torn away, the uprights which had supported it still remaining.
Behind the rails of the balcony I saw there were some loose
boards, whose raw edges looked white. I would have given a good
deal to have been able to see the notice board intact, as it
would, perhaps, have given some clue to the ownership of the
house. I remembered my experience of the investigation and
purchase of Carfax, and I could not but feel that I could find
the former owner there might be some means discovered of gaining
access to the house.
There was at present nothing to be learned from the
Piccadilly side, and nothing could be done, so I went around to
the back to see if anything could be gathered from this quarter.
The mews were active, the Piccadilly houses being mostly in
occupation. I asked one or two of the grooms and helpers whom I
saw around if they could tell me anything about the empty house.
One of them said that he heard it had lately been taken, but he
couldn't say from whom. He told me, however, that up to very
lately there had been a notice board of "For Sale" up, and that
perhaps Mitchell, Sons, & Candy the house agents could tell me
something, as he thought he remembered seeing the name of that
firm on the board. I did not wish to seem too eager, or to let
my informant know or guess too much, so thanking him in the
usual manner,I strolled away. It was now growing dusk, and the
autumn night was closing in, so I did not lose any time. Having
learned the address of Mitchell, Sons, & Candy from a directory
at the Berkeley, I was soon at their office in Sackville Street.
The gentleman who saw me was particularly suave in manner,
but uncommunicative in equal proportion. Having once told me
that the Piccadilly house, which throughout our interview he
called a "mansion," was sold, he considered my business as
concluded. When I asked who had purchased it, he opened his eyes
a thought wider, and paused a few seconds before replying, "It
is sold, sir."
"Pardon me," I said, with equal politeness, "but I have a
special reason for wishing to know who purchased it."
Again he paused longer, and raised his eyebrows still more.
"It is sold, sir," was again his laconic reply.
"Surely," I said, "you do not mind letting me know so much."
"But I do mind," he answered. "The affairs of their clients
are absolutely safe in the hands of Mitchell, Sons, & Candy."
This was manifestly a prig of the first water, and there was
no use arguing with him. I thought I had best meet him on his
own ground, so I said, "Your clients, sir, are happy in having
so resolute a guardian of their confidence. I am myself a
professional man."
Here I handed him my card. "In this instance I am not
prompted by curiosity, I act on the part of Lord Godalming, who
wishes to know something of the property which was, he
understood, lately for sale."
These words put a different complexion on affairs. He said,
"I would like to oblige you if I could, Mr. Harker, and
especially would I like to oblige his lordship. We once carried
out a small matter of renting some chambers for him when he was
the Honorable Arthur Holmwood. If you will let me have his
lordship's address I will consult the House on the subject, and
will, in any case, communicate with his lordship by tonight's
post. It will be a pleasure if we can so far deviate from our
rules as to give the required information to his lordship."
I wanted to secure a friend, and not to make an enemy, so I
thanked him, gave the address at Dr. Seward's and came away. It
was now dark, and I was tired and hungry. I got a cup of tea at
the Aerated Bread Company and came down to Purfleet by the next
train.
I found all the others at home. Mina was looking tired and
pale, but she made a gallant effort to be bright and cheerful.
It wrung my heart to think that I had had to keep anything from
her and so caused her inquietude. Thank God, this will be the
last night of her looking on at our conferences, and feeling the
sting of our not showing our confidence. It took all my courage
to hold to the wise resolution of keeping her out of our grim
task. She seems somehow more reconciled, or else the very
subject seems to have become repugnant to her, for when any
accidental allusion is made she actually shudders. I am glad we
made our resolution in time, as with such a feeling as this,our
growing knowledge would be torture to her.
I could not tell the others of the day's discovery till we
were alone, so after dinner, followed by a little music to save
appearances even amongst ourselves, I took Mina to her room and
left her to go to bed. The dear girl was more affectionate with
me than ever, and clung to me as though she would detain me, but
there was much to be talked of and I came away. Thank God, the
ceasing of telling things has made no difference between us.
When I came down again I found the others all gathered round
the fire in the study. In the train I had written my diary so
far, and simply read it off to them as the best means of letting
them get abreast of my own information.
When I had finished Van Helsing said, "This has been a great
day's work, friend Jonathan. Doubtless we are on the track of
the missing boxes. If we find them all in that house, then our
work is near the end. But if there be some missing, we must
search until we find them. Then shall we make our final coup,
and hunt the wretch to his real death."
We all sat silent awhile and all at once Mr. Morris spoke,
"Say! How are we going to get into that house?"
"We got into the other,"answered Lord Godalming quickly.
"But, Art, this is different. We broke house at Carfax, but
we had night and a walled park to protect us. It will be a
mighty different thing to commit burglary in Piccadilly, either
by day or night. I confess I don't see how we are going to get
in unless that agency duck can find us a key of some sort."
Lord Godalming's brows contracted, and he stood up and walked
about the room. By-and-by he stopped and said, turning from one
to another of us, "Quincey's head is level. This burglary
business is getting serious. We got off once all right, but we
have now a rare job on hand. Unless we can find the Count's key
basket."
As nothing could well be done before morning, and as it would
be at least advisable to wait till Lord Godalming should hear
from Mitchell's, we decided not to take any active step before
breakfast time. For a good while we sat and smoked, discussing
the matter in its various lights and bearings. I took the
opportunity of bringing this diary right up to the moment. I am
very sleepy and shall go to bed . . .
Just a line. Mina sleeps soundly and her breathing is
regular. Her forehead is puckered up into little wrinkles, as
though she thinks even in her sleep. She is still too pale, but
does not look so haggard as she did this morning. Tomorrow will,
I hope, mend all this. She will be herself at home in Exeter.
Oh, but I am sleepy!
DR. SEWARD'S DIARY
1 October.--I am puzzled afresh about Renfield. His moods
change so rapidly that I find it difficult to keep touch of
them, and as they always mean something more than his own
well-being, they form a more than interesting study. This
morning, when I went to see him after his repulse of Van
Helsing, his manner was that of a man commanding destiny. He
was, in fact, commanding destiny, subjectively. He did not
really care for any of the things of mere earth, he was in the
clouds and looked down on all the weaknesses and wants of us
poor mortals.
I thought I would improve the occasion and learn something,
so I asked him, "What about the flies these times?"
He smiled on me in quite a superior sort of way, such a smile
as would have become the face of Malvolio, as he answered me,
"The fly, my dear sir, has one striking feature. It's wings are
typical of the aerial powers of the psychic faculties. The
ancients did well when they typified the soul as a butterfly!"
I thought I would push his analogy to its utmost logically,
so I said quickly, "Oh, it is a soul you are after now, is it?"
His madness foiled his reason, and a puzzled look spread over
his face as, shaking his head with a decision which I had but
seldom seen in him.
He said, "Oh, no, oh no! I want no souls. Life is all I
want." Here he brightened up. "I am pretty indifferent about it
at present. Life is all right. I have all I want. You must get a
new patient, doctor, if you wish to study zoophagy!"
This puzzled me a little, so I drew him on. "Then you command
life. You are a god, I suppose?"
He smiled with an ineffably benign superiority. "Oh no! Far
be it from me to arrogate to myself the attributes of the Deity.
I am not even concerned in His especially spiritual doings. If I
may state my intellectual position I am, so far as concerns
things purely terrestrial, somewhat in the position which Enoch
occupied spiritually!"
This was a poser to me. I could not at the moment recall
Enoch's appositeness, so I had to ask a simple question, though
I felt that by so doing I was lowering myself in the eyes of the
lunatic. "And why with Enoch?"
"Because he walked with God."
I could not see the analogy, but did not like to admit it, so
I harked back to what he had denied. "So you don't care about
life and you don't want souls. Why not?" I put my question
quickly and somewhat sternly, on purpose to disconcert him.
The effort succeeded, for an instant he unconsciously
relapsed into his old servile manner, bent low before me, and
actually fawned upon me as he replied. "I don't want any souls,
indeed, indeed! I don't. I couldn't use them if I had them. They
would be no manner of use to me. I couldn't eat them or . . ."
He suddenly stopped and the old cunning look spread over his
face, like a wind sweep on the surface of the water.
"And doctor, as to life, what is it after all? When you've
got all you require, and you know that you will never want, that
is all. I have friends, good friends, like you, Dr. Seward."This
was said with a leer of inexpressible cunning. "I know that I
shall never lack the means of life!"
I think that through the cloudiness of his insanity he saw
some antagonism in me, for he at once fell back on the last
refuge of such as he, a dogged silence. After a short time I saw
that for the present it was useless to speak to him. He was
sulky, and so I came away.
Later in the day he sent for me. Ordinarily I would not have
come without special reason, but just at present I am so
interested in him that I would gladly make an effort. Besides, I
am glad to have anything to help pass the time. Harker is out,
following up clues, and so are Lord Godalming and Quincey. Van
Helsing sits in my study poring over the record prepared by the
Harkers. He seems to think that by accurate knowledge of all
details he will light up on some clue. He does not wish to be
disturbed in the work, without cause. I would have taken him
with me to see the patient, only I thought that after his last
repulse he might not care to go again. There was also another
reason. Renfield might not speak so freely before a third person
as when he and I were alone.
I found him sitting in the middle of the floor on his stool,
a pose which is generally indicative of some mental energy on
his part. When I came in, he said at once, as though the
question had been waiting on his lips. "What about souls?"
It was evident then that my surmise had been correct.
Unconscious cerebration was doing its work, even with the
lunatic. I determined to have the matter out.
"What about them yourself?" I asked.
He did not reply for a moment but looked all around him, and
up and down, as though he expected to find some inspiration for
an answer.
"I don't want any souls!" He said in a feeble, apologetic
way. The matter seemed preying on his mind, and so I determined
to use it, to "be cruel only to be kind." So I said, "You like
life, and you want life?"
"Oh yes! But that is all right. You needn't worry about
that!"
"But," I asked,"how are we to get the life without getting
the soul also?"
This seemed to puzzle him, so I followed it up, "A nice time
you'll have some time when you're flying out here, with the
souls of thousands of flies and spiders and birds and cats
buzzing and twittering and moaning all around you. You've got
their lives, you know, and you must put up with their souls!"
Something seemed to affect his imagination, for he put his
fingers to his ears and shut his eyes, screwing them up tightly
just as a small boy does when his face is being soaped. There
was something pathetic in it that touched me. It also gave me a
lesson, for it seemed that before me was a child, only a child,
though the features were worn, and the stubble on the jaws was
white. It was evident that he was undergoing some process of
mental disturbance, and knowing how his past moods had
interpreted things seemingly foreign to himself, I thought I
would enter into his mind as well as I could and go with him
The first step was to restore confidence, so I asked him,
speaking pretty loud so that he would hear me through his closed
ears,"Would you like some sugar to get your flies around again?"
He seemed to wake up all at once, and shook his head. With a
laugh he replied, "Not much! Flies are poor things, after all!"
After a pause he added, "But I don't want their souls buzzing
round me, all the same."
"Or spiders?" I went on.
"Blow spiders! What's the use of spiders? There isn't
anything in them to eat or . . ." He stopped suddenly as though
reminded of a forbidden topic.
"So, so!" I thought to myself, "this is the second time he
has suddenly stopped at the word `drink'. What does it mean?"
Renfield seemed himself aware of having made a lapse, for he
hurried on, as though to distract my attention from it, "I don't
take any stock at all in such matters. `Rats and mice and such
small deer,' as Shakespeare has it, `chicken feed of the larder'
they might be called. I'm past all that sort of nonsense. You
might as well ask a man to eat molecules with a pair of
chopsticks, as to try to interest me about the less carnivora,
when I know of what is before me."
"I see," I said."You want big things that you can make your
teeth meet in? How would you like to breakfast on an elephant?"
"What ridiculous nonsense you are talking?" He was getting
too wide awake, so I thought I would press him hard.
"I wonder," I said reflectively, "what an elephant's soul is
like!"
The effect I desired was obtained, for he at once fell from
his high-horse and became a child again.
"I don't want an elephant's soul, or any soul at all!" he
said. For a few moments he sat despondently. Suddenly he jumped
to his feet, with his eyes blazing and all the signs of intense
cerebral excitement. "To hell with you and your souls!" he
shouted. "Why do you plague me about souls? Haven't I got enough
to worry, and pain, to distract me already, without thinking of
souls?"
He looked so hostile that I thought he was in for another
homicidal fit, so I blew my whistle.
The instant, however, that I did so he became calm, and said
apologetically, "Forgive me, Doctor. I forgot myself. You do not
need any help. I am so worried in my mind that I am apt to be
irritable. If you only knew the problem I have to face, and that
I am working out, you would pity, and tolerate, and pardon me.
Pray do not put me in a strait waistcoat. I want to think and I
cannot think freely when my body is confined. I am sure you will
understand!"
He had evidently self-control, so when the attendants came I
told them not to mind, and they withdrew. Renfield watched them
go. When the door was closed he said with considerable dignity
and sweetness, "Dr. Seward, you have been very considerate
towards me. Believe me that I am very, very grateful to you!"
I thought it well to leave him in this mood, and so I came
away. There is certainly something to ponder over in this man's
state. Several points seem to make what the American interviewer
calls "a story," if one could only get them in proper order.
Here they are:
Will not mention "drinking."
Fears the thought of being burdened with the "soul" of
anything.
Has no dread of wanting "life" in the future.
Despises the meaner forms of life altogether, though he
dreads being haunted by their souls.
Logically all these things point one way! He has assurance of
some kind that he will acquire some higher life.
He dreads the consequence, the burden of a soul. Then it is a
human life he looks to!
And the assurance . . . ?
Merciful God! The Count has been to him, and there is some
new scheme of terror afoot!
Later.--I went after my round to Van Helsing and told him my
suspicion. He grew very grave, and after thinking the matter
over for a while asked me to take him to Renfield. I did so. As
we came to the door we heard the lunatic within singing gaily,
as he used to do in the time which now seems so long ago.
When we entered we saw with amazement that he had spread out
his sugar as of old. The flies, lethargic with the autumn, were
beginning to buzz into the room. We tried to make him talk of
the subject of our previous conversation, but he would not
attend. He went on with his singing, just as though we had not
been present. He had got a scrap of paper and was folding it
into a notebook. We had to come away as ignorant as we went in.
His is a curious case indeed. We must watch him tonight.
LETTER, MITCHELL, SONS & CANDY TO LORD GODALMING.
"1 October. "My Lord,
"We are at all times only too happy to meet your wishes. We
beg, with regard to the desire of your Lordship, expressed by
Mr. Harker on your behalf, to supply the following information
concerning the sale and purchase of No.347,Piccadilly. The
original vendors are the executors of the late Mr. Archibald
Winter-Suffield. The purchaser is a foreign nobleman, Count de
Ville, who effected the purchase himself paying the purchase
money in notes `over the counter,' if your Lordship will pardon
us using so vulgar an expression. Beyond this we know nothing
whatever of him.
"We are, my Lord,
"Your Lordship's humble servants,
"MITCHELL, SONS & CANDY."
DR. SEWARD'S DIARY
2 October.--I placed a man in the corridor last night, and
told him to make an accurate note of any sound he might hear
from Renfield's room, and gave him instructions that if there
should be anything strange he was to call me. After dinner, when
we had all gathered round the fire in the study, Mrs. Harker
having gone to bed, we discussed the attempts and discoveries of
the day. Harker was the only one who had any result, and we are
in great hopes that his clue may be an important one.
Before going to bed I went round to the patient's room and
looked in through the observation trap. He was sleeping soundly,
his heart rose and fell with regular respiration.
This morning the man on duty reported to me that a little
after midnight he was restless and kept saying his prayers
somewhat loudly. I asked him if that was all. He replied that it
was all he heard. There was something about his manner, so
suspicious that I asked him point blank if he had been asleep.
He denied sleep, but admitted to having "dozed" for a while. It
is too bad that men cannot be trusted unless they are watched.
Today Harker is out following up his clue, and Art and
Quincey are looking after horses. Godalming thinks that it will
be well to have horses always in readiness, for when we get the
information which we seek there will be no time to lose. We must
sterilize all the imported earth between sunrise and sunset. We
shall thus catch the Count at his weakest, and without a refuge
to fly to. Van Helsing is off to the British Museum looking up
some authorities on ancient medicine. The old physicians took
account of things which their followers do not accept, and the
Professor is searching for witch and demon cures which may be
useful to us later.
I sometimes think we must be all mad and that we shall wake
to sanity in strait waistcoats.
Later.--We have met again. We seem at last to be on the
track, and our work of tomorrow may be the beginning of the end.
I wonder if Renfield's quiet has anything to do with this. His
moods have so followed the doings of the Count, that the coming
destruction of the monster may be carried to him some subtle
way. If we could only get some hint as to what passed in his
mind, between the time of my argument with him today and his
resumption of fly-catching, it might afford us a valuable clue.
He is now seemingly quiet for a spell . . . Is he? That wild
yell seemed to come from his room . . .
The attendant came bursting into my room and told me that
Renfield had somehow met with some accident. He had heard him
yell, and when he went to him found him lying on his face on the
floor, all covered with blood. I must go at once . . .
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Chapter 21
DR. SEWARD'S DIARY
3 October.--Let me put down with exactness all that happened,
as well as I can remember, since last I made an entry. Not a
detail that I can recall must be forgotten. In all calmness I
must proceed.
When I came to Renfield's room I found him lying on the floor
on his left side in a glittering pool of blood. When I went to
move him, it became at once apparent that he had received some
terrible injuries. There seemed none of the unity of purpose
between the parts of the body which marks even lethargic sanity.
As the face was exposed I could see that it was horribly
bruised, as though it had been beaten against the floor. Indeed
it was from the face wounds that the pool of blood originated.
The attendant who was kneeling beside the body said to me as
we turned him over, "I think, sir, his back is broken. See, both
his right arm and leg and the whole side of his face are
paralysed." How such a thing could have happened puzzled the
attendant beyond measure. He seemed quite bewildered, and his
brows were gathered in as he said, "I can't understand the two
things. He could mark his face like that by beating his own head
on the floor. I saw a young woman do it once at the Eversfield
Asylum before anyone could lay hands on her. And I suppose he
might have broken his neck by falling out of bed, if he got in
an awkward kink. But for the life of me I can't imagine how the
two things occurred. If his back was broke, he couldn't beat his
head, and if his face was like that before the fall out of bed,
there would be marks of it."
I said to him, "Go to Dr. Van Helsing, and ask him to kindly
come here at once. I want him without an instant's delay."
The man ran off, and within a few minutes the Professor, in
his dressing gown and slippers, appeared. When he saw Renfield
on the ground, he looked keenly at him a moment, and then turned
to me. I think he recognized my thought in my eyes, for he said
very quietly, manifestly for the ears of the attendant, "Ah, a
sad accident! He will need very careful watching, and much
attention. I shall stay with you myself, but I shall first dress
myself. If you will remain I shall in a few minutes join you."
The patient was now breathing stertorously and it was easy to
see that he had suffered some terrible injury.
Van Helsing returned with extraordinary celerity, bearing
with him a surgical case. He had evidently been thinking and had
his mind made up, for almost before he looked at the patient, he
whispered to me, "Send the attendant away. We must be alone with
him when he becomes conscious, after the operation."
I said, "I think that will do now, Simmons. We have done all
that we can at present. You had better go your round, and Dr.
Van Helsing will operate. Let me know instantly if there be
anything unusual anywhere."
The man withdrew, and we went into a strict examination of
the patient. The wounds of the face were superficial. The real
injury was a depressed fracture of the skull, extending right up
through the motor area.
The Professor thought a moment and said,"We must reduce the
pressure and get back to normal conditions, as far as can be.
The rapidity of the suffusion shows the terrible nature of his
injury. The whole motor area seems affected. The suffusion of
the brain will increase quickly, so we must trephine at once or
it may be too late."
As he was speaking there was a soft tapping at the door. I
went over and opened it and found in the corridor without,
Arthur and Quincey in pajamas and slippers, the former spoke, "I
heard your man call up Dr. Van Helsing and tell him of an
accident. So I woke Quincey or rather called for him as he was
not asleep. Things are moving too quickly and too strangely for
sound sleep for any of us these times. I've been thinking that
tomorrow night will not see things as they have been. We'll have
to look back, and forward a little more than we have done. May
we come in?"
I nodded, and held the door open till they had entered, then
I closed it again. When Quincey saw the attitude and state of
the patient, and noted the horrible pool on the floor, he said
softly, "My God! What has happened to him? Poor, poor devil!"
I told him briefly, and added that we expected he would
recover consciousness after the operation, for a short time, at
all events. He went at once and sat down on the edge of the bed,
with Godalming beside him. We all watched in patience.
"We shall wait," said Van Helsing, "just long enough to fix
the best spot for trephining, so that we may most quickly and
perfectly remove the blood clot, for it is evident that the
haemorrhage is increasing."
The minutes during which we waited passed with fearful
slowness. I had a horrible sinking in my heart, and from Van
Helsing's face I gathered that he felt some fear or apprehension
as to what was to come. I dreaded the words Renfield might
speak. I was positively afraid to think. But the conviction of
what was coming was on me, as I have read of men who have heard
the death watch. The poor man's breathing came in uncertain
gasps.Each instant he seemed as though he would open his eyes
and speak, but then would follow a prolonged stertorous breath,
and he would relapse into a more fixed insensibility. Inured as
I was to sick beds and death, this suspense grew and grew upon
me. I could almost hear the beating of my own heart, and the
blood surging through my temples sounded like blows from a
hammer. The silence finally became agonizing. I looked at my
companions, one after another, and saw from their flushed faces
and damp brows that they were enduring equal torture. There was
a nervous suspense over us all, as though overhead some dread
bell would peal out powerfully when we should least expect it.
At last there came a time when it was evident that the
patient was sinking fast. He might die at any moment. I looked
up at the Professor and caught his eyes fixed on mine. His face
was sternly set as he spoke, "There is no time to lose. His
words may be worth many lives. I have been thinking so, as I
stood here. It may be there is a soul at stake! We shall operate
just above the ear."
Without another word he made the operation. For a few moments
the breathing continued to be stertorous. Then there came a
breath so prolonged that it seemed as though it would tear open
his chest. Suddenly his eyes opened, and became fixed in a wild,
helpless stare. This was continued for a few moments, then it
was softened into a glad surprise, and from his lips came a sigh
of relief. He moved convulsively, and as he did so, said, "I'll
be quiet, Doctor. Tell them to take off the strait waistcoat. I
have had a terrible dream, and it has left me so weak that I
cannot move. What's wrong with my face? It feels all swollen,
and it smarts dreadfully."
He tried to turn his head, but even with the effort his eyes
seemed to grow glassy again so I gently put it back. Then Van
Helsing said in a quiet grave tone, "Tell us your dream, Mr.
Renfield."
As he heard the voice his face brightened, through its
mutilation, and he said, "That is Dr. Van Helsing. How good it
is of you to be here. Give me some water, my lips are dry, and I
shall try to tell you. I dreamed" . . .
He stopped and seemed fainting. I called quietly to Quincey,
"The brandy, it is in my study, quick!" He flew and returned
with a glass, the decanter of brandy and a carafe of water. We
moistened the parched lips, and the patient quickly revived.
It seemed, however, that his poor injured brain had been
working in the interval, for when he was quite conscious, he
looked at me piercingly with an agonized confusion which I shall
never forget, and said, "I must not deceive myself. It was no
dream, but all a grim reality." Then his eyes roved round the
room. As they caught sight of the two figures sitting patiently
on the edge of the bed he went on, "If I were not sure already,
I would know from them."
For an instant his eyes closed, not with pain or sleep but
voluntarily, as though he were bringing all his faculties to
bear. When he opened them he said, hurriedly, and with more
energy than he had yet displayed, "Quick, Doctor, quick, I am
dying! I feel that I have but a few minutes, and then I must go
back to death, or worse! Wet my lips with brandy again. I have
something that I must say before I die. Or before my poor
crushed brain dies anyhow. Thank you! It was that night after
you left me, when I implored you to let me go away. I couldn't
speak then, for I felt my tongue was tied. But I was as sane
then, except in that way, as I am now. I was in an agony of
despair for a long time after you left me, it seemed hours. Then
there came a sudden peace to me. My brain seemed to become cool
again, and I realized where I was. I heard the dogs bark behind
our house, but not where He was!"
As he spoke, Van Helsing's eyes never blinked, but his hand
came out and met mine and gripped it hard. He did not, however,
betray himself. He nodded slightly and said, "Go on," in a low
voice.
Renfield proceeded. "He came up to the window in the mist, as
I had seen him often before, but he was solid then, not a ghost,
and his eyes were fierce like a man's when angry. He was
laughing with his red mouth, the sharp white teeth glinted in
the moonlight when he turned to look back over the belt of
trees, to where the dogs were barking. I wouldn't ask him to
come in at first, though I knew he wanted to, just as he had
wanted all along. Then he began promising me things, not in
words but by doing them."
He was interrupted by a word from the Professor, "How?"
"By making them happen. Just as he used to send in the flies
when the sun was shining. Great big fat ones with steel and
sapphire on their wings. And big moths, in the night, with skull
and cross-bones on their backs."
Van Helsing nodded to him as he whispered to me
unconsciously, "The Acherontia Atropos of the Sphinges, what you
call the `Death's-head Moth'?"
The patient went on without stopping, "Then he began to
whisper.`Rats, rats, rats! Hundreds, thousands, millions of
them, and every one a life. And dogs to eat them, and cats too.
All lives! All red blood, with years of life in it, and not
merely buzzing flies!' I laughed at him, for I wanted to see
what he could do. Then the dogs howled, away beyond the dark
trees in His house. He beckoned me to the window. I got up and
looked out, and He raised his hands,and seemed to call out
without using any words. A dark mass spread over the grass,
coming on like the shape of a flame of fire. And then He moved
the mist to the right and left, and I could see that there were
thousands of rats with their eyes blazing red, like His only
smaller. He held up his hand, and they all stopped, and I
thought he seemed to be saying, `All these lives will I give
you, ay, and many more and greater, through countless ages, if
you will fall down and worship me!' And then a red cloud, like
the color of blood, seemed to close over my eyes, and before I
knew what I was doing, I found myself opening the sash and
saying to Him, `Come in, Lord and Master!' The rats were all
gone, but He slid into the room through the sash, though it was
only open an inch wide, just as the Moon herself has often come
in through the tiniest crack and has stood before me in all her
size and splendor."
His voice was weaker, so I moistened his lips with the brandy
again, and he continued, but it seemed as though his memory had
gone on working in the interval for his story was further
advanced. I was about to call him back to the point, but Van
Helsing whispered to me, "Let him go on. Do not interrupt him.
He cannot go back, and maybe could not proceed at all if once he
lost the thread of his thought."
He proceeded, "All day I waited to hear from him, but he did
not send me anything, not even a blowfly, and when the moon got
up I was pretty angry with him. When he did slide in through the
window, though it was shut, and did not even knock, I got mad
with him. He sneered at me, and his white face looked out of the
mist with his red eyes gleaming, and he went on as though he
owned the whole place, and I was no one. He didn't even smell
the same as he went by me. I couldn't hold him. I thought that,
somehow, Mrs. Harker had come into the room."
The two men sitting on the bed stood up and came over,
standing behind him so that he could not see them, but where
they could hear better. They were both silent, but the Professor
started and quivered. His face, however, grew grimmer and
sterner still. Renfield went on without noticing, "When Mrs.
Harker came in to see me this afternoon she wasn't the same. It
was like tea after the teapot has been watered." Here we all
moved, but no one said a word.
He went on, "I didn't know that she was here till she spoke,
and she didn't look the same. I don't care for the pale people.
I like them with lots of blood in them, and hers all seemed to
have run out. I didn't think of it at the time, but when she
went away I began to think, and it made me mad to know that He
had been taking the life out of her." I could feel that the rest
quivered, as I did. But we remained otherwise still. "So when He
came tonight I was ready for Him. I saw the mist stealing in,
and I grabbed it tight. I had heard that madmen have unnatural
strength. And as I knew I was a madman, at times anyhow, I
resolved to use my power. Ay, and He felt it too, for He had to
come out of the mist to struggle with me. I held tight, and I
thought I was going to win, for I didn't mean Him to take any
more of her life, till I saw His eyes. They burned into me, and
my strength became like water. He slipped through it, and when I
tried to cling to Him, He raised me up and flung me down. There
was a red cloud before me, and a noise like thunder,and the mist
seemed to steal away under the door."
His voice was becoming fainter and his breath more
stertorous. Van Helsing stood up instinctively.
"We know the worst now," he said. "He is here, and we know
his purpose. It may not be too late. Let us be armed, the same
as we were the other night, but lose no time, there is not an
instant to spare."
There was no need to put our fear, nay our conviction, into
words, we shared them in common. We all hurried and took from
our rooms the same things that we had when we entered the
Count's house. The Professor had his ready, and as we met in the
corridor he pointed to them significantly as he said, "They
never leave me, and they shall not till this unhappy business is
over. Be wise also, my friends. It is no common enemy that we
deal with Alas! Alas! That dear Madam Mina should suffer!" He
stopped, his voice was breaking, and I do not know if rage or
terror predominated in my own heart.
Outside the Harkers' door we paused. Art and Quincey held
back, and the latter said, "Should we disturb her?"
"We must," said Van Helsing grimly. "If the door be locked, I
shall break it in."
"May it not frighten her terribly? It is unusual to break
into a lady's room!"
Van Helsing said solemnly, "You are always right. But this is
life and death. All chambers are alike to the doctor. And even
were they not they are all as one to me tonight. Friend John,
when I turn the handle, if the door does not open, do you put
your shoulder down and shove. And you too, my friends. Now!"
He turned the handle as he spoke, but the door did not yield.
We threw ourselves against it. With a crash it burst open, and
we almost fell headlong into the room. The Professor did
actually fall, and I saw across him as he gathered himself up
from hands and knees. What I saw appalled me. I felt my hair
rise like bristles on the back of my neck, and my heart seemed
to stand still.
The moonlight was so bright that through the thick yellow
blind the room was light enough to see. On the bed beside the
window lay Jonathan Harker, his face flushed and breathing
heavily as though in a stupor. Kneeling on the near edge of the
bed facing outwards was the white-clad figure of his wife. By
her side stood a tall, thin man, clad in black. His face was
turned from us, but the instant we saw we all recognized the
Count, in every way, even to the scar on his forehead. With his
left hand he held both Mrs. Harker's hands, keeping them away
with her arms at full tension. His right hand gripped her by the
back of the neck, forcing her face down on his bosom. Her white
night-dress was smeared with blood, and a thin stream trickled
down the man's bare chest which was shown by his torn-open
dress. The attitude of the two had a terrible resemblance to a
child forcing a kitten's nose into a saucer of milk to compel it
to drink. As we burst into the room, the Count turned his face,
and the hellish look that I had heard described seemed to leap
into it. His eyes flamed red with devilish passion. The great
nostrils of the white aquiline nose opened wide and quivered at
the edge, and the white sharp teeth, behind the full lips of the
blood dripping mouth, clamped together like those of a wild
beast. With a wrench, which threw his victim back upon the bed
as though hurled from a height, he turned and sprang at us. But
by this time the Professor had gained his feet, and was holding
towards him the envelope which contained the Sacred Wafer. The
Count suddenly stopped, just as poor Lucy had done outside the
tomb, and cowered back. Further and further back he cowered, as
we, lifting our crucifixes, advanced. The moonlight suddenly
failed, as a great black cloud sailed across the sky. And when
the gaslight sprang up under Quincey's match, we saw nothing but
a faint vapor. This, as we looked, trailed under the door, which
with the recoil from its bursting open, had swung back to its
old position. Van Helsing, Art, and I moved forward to Mrs.
Harker, who by this time had drawn her breath and with it had
given a scream so wild, so ear-piercing, so despairing that it
seems to me now that it will ring in my ears till my dying day.
For a few seconds she lay in her helpless attitude and disarray.
Her face was ghastly, with a pallor which was accentuated by the
blood which smeared her lips and cheeks and chin. From her
throat trickled a thin stream of blood. Her eyes were mad with
terror. Then she put before her face her poor crushed hands,
which bore on their whiteness the red mark of the Count's
terrible grip, and from behind them came a low desolate wail
which made the terrible scream seem only the quick expression of
an endless grief. Van Helsing stepped forward and drew the
coverlet gently over her body, whilst Art, after looking at her
face for an instant despairingly, ran out of the room.
Van Helsing whispered to me, "Jonathan is in a stupor such as
we know the Vampire can produce. We can do nothing with poor
Madam Mina for a few moments till she recovers herself. I must
wake him!"
He dipped the end of a towel in cold water and with it began
to flick him on the face, his wife all the while holding her
face between her hands and sobbing in a way that was heart
breaking to hear. I raised the blind, and looked out of the
window. There was much moonshine, and as I looked I could see
Quincey Morris run across the lawn and hide himself in the
shadow of a great yew tree. It puzzled me to think why he was
doing this. But at the instant I heard Harker's quick
exclamation as he woke to partial consciousness, and turned to
the bed. On his face, as there might well be, was a look of wild
amazement. He seemed dazed for a few seconds, and then full
consciousness seemed to burst upon him all at once, and he
started up.
His wife was aroused by the quick movement, and turned to him
with her arms stretched out, as though to embrace him.
Instantly, however, she drew them in again, and putting her
elbows together, held her hands before her face,and shuddered
till the bed beneath her shook.
"In God's name what does this mean?" Harker cried out. "Dr.
Seward, Dr. Van Helsing, what is it? What has happened? What is
wrong? Mina, dear what is it? What does that blood mean? My God,
my God! Has it come to this!" And, raising himself to his knees,
he beat his hands wildly together."Good God help us! Help her!
Oh, help her!"
With a quick movement he jumped from bed, and began to pull
on his clothes, all the man in him awake at the need for instant
exertion. "What has happened? Tell me all about it!" he cried
without pausing. "Dr. Van Helsing you love Mina, I know. Oh, do
something to save her. It cannot have gone too far yet. Guard
her while I look for him!"
His wife, through her terror and horror and distress, saw
some sure danger to him. Instantly forgetting her own grief, she
seized hold of him and cried out.
"No! No! Jonathan, you must not leave me. I have suffered
enough tonight, God knows, without the dread of his harming you.
You must stay with me. Stay with these friends who will watch
over you!" Her expression became frantic as she spoke. And, he
yielding to her, she pulled him down sitting on the bedside, and
clung to him fiercely.
Van Helsing and I tried to calm them both. The Professor held
up his golden crucifix, and said with wonderful calmness, "Do
not fear, my dear. We are here, and whilst this is close to you
no foul thing can approach. You are safe for tonight, and we
must be calm and take counsel together."
She shuddered and was silent, holding down her head on her
husband's breast. When she raised it, his white nightrobe was
stained with blood where her lips had touched, and where the
thin open wound in the neck had sent forth drops. The instant
she saw it she drew back, with a low wail, and whispered, amidst
choking sobs.
"Unclean, unclean! I must touch him or kiss him no more. Oh,
that it should be that it is I who am now his worst enemy, and
whom he may have most cause to fear."
To this he spoke out resolutely, "Nonsense, Mina. It is a
shame to me to hear such a word. I would not hear it of you. And
I shall not hear it from you. May God judge me by my deserts,
and punish me with more bitter suffering than even this hour, if
by any act or will of mine anything ever come between us!"
He put out his arms and folded her to his breast. And for a
while she lay there sobbing. He looked at us over her bowed
head, with eyes that blinked damply above his quivering
nostrils. His mouth was set as steel.
After a while her sobs became less frequent and more faint,
and then he said to me, speaking with a studied calmness which I
felt tried his nervous power to the utmost.
"And now, Dr. Seward, tell me all about it. Too well I know
the broad fact. Tell me all that has been."
I told him exactly what had happened and he listened with
seeming impassiveness, but his nostrils twitched and his eyes
blazed as I told how the ruthless hands of the Count had held
his wife in that terrible and horrid position, with her mouth to
the open wound in his breast. It interested me, even at that
moment, to see that whilst the face of white set passion worked
convulsively over the bowed head, the hands tenderly and
lovingly stroked the ruffled hair. Just as I had finished,
Quincey and Godalming knocked at the door. They entered in
obedience to our summons. Van Helsing looked at me
questioningly. I understood him to mean if we were to take
advantage of their coming to divert if possible the thoughts of
the unhappy husband and wife from each other and from
themselves. So on nodding acquiescence to him he asked them what
they had seen or done. To which Lord Godalming answered.
"I could not see him anywhere in the passage, or in any of
our rooms. I looked in the study but, though he had been there,
he had gone. He had, however . . ." He stopped suddenly, looking
at the poor drooping figure on the bed.
Van Helsing said gravely, "Go on, friend Arthur. We want here
no more concealments. Our hope now is in knowing all. Tell
freely!"
So Art went on, "He had been there, and though it could only
have been for a few seconds, he made rare hay of the place. All
the manuscript had been burned, and the blue flames were
flickering amongst the white ashes. The cylinders of your
phonograph too were thrown on the fire, and the wax had helped
the flames."
Here I interrupted. "Thank God there is the other copy in the
safe!"
His face lit for a moment, but fell again as he went on. "I
ran downstairs then, but could see no sign of him. I looked into
Renfield's room, but there was no trace there except . . ."
Again he paused.
"Go on," said Harker hoarsely. So he bowed his head and
moistening his lips with his tongue, added, "except that the
poor fellow is dead."
Mrs. Harker raised her head, looking from one to the other of
us she said solemnly, "God's will be done!"
I could not but feel that Art was keeping back something.
But, as I took it that it was with a purpose, I said nothing.
Van Helsing turned to Morris and asked,"And you, friend
Quincey, have you any to tell?"
"A little," he answered. "It may be much eventually, but at
present I can't say. I thought it well to know if possible where
the Count would go when he left the house. I did not see him,
but I saw a bat rise from Renfield's window, and flap westward.
I expected to see him in some shape go back to Carfax, but he
evidently sought some other lair. He will not be back tonight,
for the sky is reddening in the east, and the dawn is close. We
must work tomorrow!"
He said the latter words through his shut teeth. For a space
of perhaps a couple of minutes there was silence, and I could
fancy that I could hear the sound of our hearts beating.
Then Van Helsing said, placing his hand tenderly on Mrs.
Harker's head, "And now, Madam Mina, poor dear, dear, Madam
Mina, tell us exactly what happened. God knows that I do not
want that you be pained, but it is need that we know all. For
now more than ever has all work to be done quick and sharp, and
in deadly earnest. The day is close to us that must end all, if
it may be so, and now is the chance that we may live and learn."
The poor dear lady shivered, and I could see the tension of
her nerves as she clasped her husband closer to her and bent her
head lower and lower still on his breast. Then she raised her
head proudly, and held out one hand to Van Helsing who took it
in his, and after stooping and kissing it reverently, held it
fast. The other hand was locked in that of her husband, who held
his other arm thrown round her protectingly. After a pause in
which she was evidently ordering her thoughts, she began.
"I took the sleeping draught which you had so kindly given
me, but for a long time it did not act. I seemed to become more
wakeful, and myriads of horrible fancies began to crowd in upon
my mind. All of them connected with death, and vampires, with
blood, and pain, and trouble." Her husband involuntarily groaned
as she turned to him and said lovingly, "Do not fret, dear. You
must be brave and strong, and help me through the horrible task.
If you only knew what an effort it is to me to tell of this
fearful thing at all, you would understand how much I need your
help. Well, I saw I must try to help the medicine to its work
with my will, if it was to do me any good, so I resolutely set
myself to sleep. Sure enough sleep must soon have come to me,
for I remember no more. Jonathan coming in had not waked me, for
he lay by my side when next I remember. There was in the room
the same thin white mist that I had before noticed. But I forget
now if you know of this. You will find it in my diary which I
shall show you later. I felt the same vague terror which had
come to me before and the same sense of some presence. I turned
to wake Jonathan, but found that he slept so soundly that it
seemed as if it was he who had taken the sleeping draught, and
not I. I tried, but I could not wake him. This caused me a great
fear, and I looked around terrified. Then indeed, my heart sank
within me. Beside the bed, as if he had stepped out of the mist,
or rather as if the mist had turned into his figure, for it had
entirely disappeared, stood a tall, thin man, all in black. I
knew him at once from the description of the others. The waxen
face, the high aquiline nose, on which the light fell in a thin
white line, the parted red lips, with the sharp white teeth
showing between, and the red eyes that I had seemed to see in
the sunset on the windows of St. Mary's Church at Witby. I knew,
too, the red scar on his forehead where Jonathan had struck him.
For an instant my heart stood still, and I would have screamed
out, only that I was paralyzed. In the pause he spoke in a sort
of keen, cutting whisper, pointing as he spoke to Jonathan.
"`Silence! If you make a sound I shall take him and dash his
brains out before your very eyes.' I was appalled and was too
bewildered to do or say anything. With a mocking smile, he
placed one hand upon my shoulder and, holding me tight, bared my
throat with the other, saying as he did so, `First, a little
refreshment to reward my exertions. You may as well be quiet. It
is not the first time, or the second, that your veins have
appeased my thirst!' I was bewildered, and strangely enough, I
did not want to hinder him. I suppose it is a part of the
horrible curse that such is, when his touch is on his victim.
And oh, my God, my God, pity me! He placed his reeking lips upon
my throat!" Her husband groaned again. She clasped his hand
harder, and looked at him pityingly, as if he were the injured
one, and went on.
"I felt my strength fading away, and I was in a half swoon.
How long this horrible thing lasted I know not, but it seemed
that a long time must have passed before he took his foul,
awful, sneering mouth away. I saw it drip with the fresh
blood!"The remembrance seemed for a while to overpower her, and
she drooped and would have sunk down but for her husband's
sustaining arm. With a great effort she recovered herself and
went on.
"Then he spoke to me mockingly, `And so you, like the others,
would play your brains against mine. You would help these men to
hunt me and frustrate me in my design! You know now, and they
know in part already, and will know in full before long, what it
is to cross my path. They should have kept their energies for
use closer to home. Whilst they played wits against me, against
me who commanded nations, and intrigued for them, and fought for
them, hundreds of years before they were born, I was
countermining them. And you, their best beloved one, are now to
me, flesh of my flesh, blood of my blood, kin of my kin, my
bountiful wine-press for a while, and shall be later on my
companion and my helper. You shall be avenged in turn, for not
one of them but shall minister to your needs. But as yet you are
to be punished for what you have done. You have aided in
thwarting me. Now you shall come to my call. When my brain says
"Come!" to you, you shall cross land or sea to do my bidding.
And to that end this!'
With that he pulled open his shirt, and with his long sharp
nails opened a vein in his breast. When the blood began to spurt
out, he took my hands in one of his, holding them tight, and
with the other seized my neck and pressed my mouth to the wound,
so that I must either suffocate or swallow some to the . . . Oh,
my God! My God! What have I done? What have I done to deserve
such a fate, I who have tried to walk in meekness and
righteousness all my days. God pity me! Look down on a poor soul
in worse than mortal peril. And in mercy pity those to whom she
is dear!" Then she began to rub her lips as though to cleanse
them from pollution.
As she was telling her terrible story, the eastern sky began
to quicken, and everything became more and more clear. Harker
was still and quiet. But over his face, as the awful narrative
went on, came a grey look which deepened and deepened in the
morning light, till when the first red streak of the coming dawn
shot up, the flesh stood darkly out against the whitening hair.
We have arranged that one of us is to stay within call of the
unhappy pair till we can meet together and arrange about taking
action.
Of this I am sure. The sun rises today on no more miserable
house in all the great round of its daily course.
|

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Chapter 22
JONATHAN HARKER'S JOURNAL
3 October.--As I must do something or go mad, I write this
diary. It is now six o'clock, and we are to meet in the study in
half an hour and take something to eat, for Dr. Van Helsing and
Dr. Seward are agreed that if we do not eat we cannot work our
best. Our best will be, God knows, required today. I must keep
writing at every chance, for I dare not stop to think. All, big
and little, must go down. Perhaps at the end the little things
may teach us most. The teaching, big or little, could not have
landed Mina or me anywhere worse than we are today. However, we
must trust and hope. Poor Mina told me just now, with the tears
running down her dear cheeks, that it is in trouble and trial
that our faith is tested. That we must keep on trusting, and
that God will aid us up to the end. The end! Oh my God! What
end? . . . To work! To work!
When Dr. Van Helsing and Dr. Seward had come back from seeing
poor Renfield, we went gravely into what was to be done. First,
Dr. Seward told us that when he and Dr. Van Helsing had gone
down to the room below they had found Renfield lying on the
floor, all in a heap. His face was all bruised and crushed in,
and the bones of the neck were broken.
Dr. Seward asked the attendant who was on duty in the passage
if he had heard anything. He said that he had been sitting down,
he confessed to half dozing, when he heard loud voices in the
room, and then Renfield had called out loudly several times,
"God! God! God!" After that there was a sound of falling, and
when he entered the room he found him lying on the floor, face
down, just as the doctors had seen him. Van Helsing asked if he
had heard "voices" or "a voice," and he said he could not say.
That at first it had seemed to him as if there were two, but as
there was no one in the room it could have been only one. He
could swear to it, if required, that the word "God" was spoken
by the patient.
Dr. Seward said to us, when we were alone, that he did not
wish to go into the matter. The question of an inquest had to be
considered, and it would never do to put forward the truth, as
no one would believe it. As it was, he thought that on the
attendant's evidence he could give a certificate of death by
misadventure in falling from bed. In case the coroner should
demand it, there would be a formal inquest, necessarily to the
same result.
When the question began to be discussed as to what should be
our next step, the very first thing we decided was that Mina
should be in full confidence. That nothing of any sort, no
matter how painful, should be kept from her. She herself agreed
as to its wisdom, and it was pitiful to see her so brave and yet
so sorrowful, and in such a depth of despair.
"There must be no concealment," she said. "Alas! We have had
too much already. And besides there is nothing in all the world
that can give me more pain than I have already endured, than I
suffer now! Whatever may happen, it must be of new hope or of
new courage to me!"
Van Helsing was looking at her fixedly as she spoke, and
said, suddenly but quietly, "But dear Madam Mina, are you not
afraid. Not for yourself, but for others from yourself, after
what has happened?"
Her face grew set in its lines, but her eyes shone with the
devotion of a martyr as she answered, "Ah no! For my mind is
made up!"
"To what?" he asked gently, whilst we were all very still,
for each in our own way we had a sort of vague idea of what she
meant.
Her answer came with direct simplicity, as though she was
simply stating a fact, "Because if I find in myself, and I shall
watch keenly for it, a sign of harm to any that I love, I shall
die!"
"You would not kill yourself?" he asked, hoarsely.
"I would. If there were no friend who loved me, who would
save me such a pain, and so desperate an effort!" She looked at
him meaningly as she spoke.
He was sitting down, but now he rose and came close to her
and put his hand on her head as he said solemnly. "My child,
there is such an one if it were for your good. For myself I
could hold it in my account with God to find such an euthanasia
for you, even at this moment if it were best. Nay, were it safe!
But my child . . ."
For a moment he seemed choked, and a great sob rose in his
throat. He gulped it down and went on, "There are here some who
would stand between you and death. You must not die. You must
not die by any hand, but least of all your own. Until the other,
who has fouled your sweet life, is true dead you must not die.
For if he is still with the quick Undead, your death would make
you even as he is. No, you must live! You must struggle and
strive to live, though death would seem a boon unspeakable. You
must fight Death himself, though he come to you in pain or in
joy. By the day, or the night, in safety or in peril! On your
living soul I charge you that you do not die. Nay, nor think of
death, till this great evil be past."
The poor dear grew white as death, and shook and shivered, as
I have seen a quicksand shake and shiver at the incoming of the
tide. We were all silent. We could do nothing. At length she
grew more calm and turning to him said sweetly, but oh so
sorrowfully, as she held out her hand, "I promise you, my dear
friend, that if God will let me live, I shall strive to do so.
Till, if it may be in His good time, this horror may have passed
away from me."
She was so good and brave that we all felt that our hearts
were strengthened to work and endure for her, and we began to
discuss what we were to do. I told her that she was to have all
the papers in the safe, and all the papers or diaries and
phonographs we might hereafter use, and was to keep the record
as she had done before. She was pleased with the prospect of
anything to do, if "pleased" could be used in connection with so
grim an interest.
As usual Van Helsing had thought ahead of everyone else, and
was prepared with an exact ordering of our work.
"It is perhaps well," he said, "that at our meeting after our
visit to Carfax we decided not to do anything with the earth
boxes that lay there. Had we done so, the Count must have
guessed our purpose, and would doubtless have taken measures in
advance to frustrate such an effort with regard to the others.
But now he does not know our intentions. Nay, more, in all
probability, he does not know that such a power exists to us as
can sterilize his lairs, so that he cannot use them as of old.
"We are now so much further advanced in our knowledge as to
their disposition that, when we have examined the house in
Piccadilly, we may track the very last of them. Today then, is
ours, and in it rests our hope. The sun that rose on our sorrow
this morning guards us in its course. Until it sets tonight,
that monster must retain whatever form he now has. He is
confined within the limitations of his earthly envelope. He
cannot melt into thin air nor disappear through cracks or chinks
or crannies. If he go through a doorway, he must open the door
like a mortal. And so we have this day to hunt out all his lairs
and sterilize them. So we shall, if we have not yet catch him
and destroy him, drive him to bay in some place where the
catching and the destroying shall be, in time, sure."
Here I started up for I could not contain myself at the
thought that the minutes and seconds so preciously laden with
Mina's life and happiness were flying from us, since whilst we
talked action was impossible. But Van Helsing held up his hand
warningly.
"Nay, friend Jonathan," he said, "in this, the quickest way
home is the longest way, so your proverb say. We shall all act
and act with desperate quick, when the time has come. But think,
in all probable the key of the situation is in that house in
Piccadilly. The Count may have many houses which he has bought.
Of them he will have deeds of purchase, keys and other things.
He will have paper that he write on. He will have his book of
cheques. There are many belongings that he must have somewhere.
Why not in this place so central, so quiet, where he come and go
by the front or the back at all hours, when in the very vast of
the traffic there is none to notice. We shall go there and
search that house. And when we learn what it holds, then we do
what our friend Arthur call, in his phrases of hunt `stop the
earths' and so we run down our old fox, so? Is it not?"
"Then let us come at once," I cried, "we are wasting the
precious, precious time!"
The Professor did not move, but simply said, "And how are we
to get into that house in Piccadilly?"
"Any way!" I cried. "We shall break in if need be."
"And your police? Where will they be, and what will they
say?"
I was staggered, but I knew that if he wished to delay he had
a good reason for it. So I said, as quietly as I could, "Don't
wait more than need be. You know, I am sure, what torture I am
in."
"Ah, my child, that I do. And indeed there is no wish of me
to add to your anguish. But just think, what can we do, until
all the world be at movement. Then will come our time. I have
thought and thought, and it seems to me that the simplest way is
the best of all. Now we wish to get into the house, but we have
no key. Is it not so?"I nodded.
"Now suppose that you were, in truth, the owner of that
house, and could not still get in. And think there was to you no
conscience of the housebreaker, what would you do?"
"I should get a respectable locksmith, and set him to work to
pick the lock for me."
"And your police, they would interfere, would they not?"
"Oh no! Not if they knew the man was properly employed."
"Then," he looked at me as keenly as he spoke, "all that is
in doubt is the conscience of the employer, and the belief of
your policemen as to whether or not that employer has a good
conscience or a bad one. Your police must indeed be zealous men
and clever, oh so clever, in reading the heart, that they
trouble themselves in such matter. No, no, my friend Jonathan,
you go take the lock off a hundred empty houses in this your
London, or of any city in the world, and if you do it as such
things are rightly done, and at the time such things are rightly
done, no one will interfere. I have read of a gentleman who
owned a so fine house in London, and when he went for months of
summer to Switzerland and lock up his house, some burglar come
and broke window at back and got in. Then he went and made open
the shutters in front and walk out and in through the door,
before the very eyes of the police. Then he have an auction in
that house, and advertise it, and put up big notice. And when
the day come he sell off by a great auctioneer all the goods of
that other man who own them. Then he go to a builder, and he
sell him that house, making an agreement that he pull it down
and take all away within a certain time. And your police and
other authority help him all they can. And when that owner come
back from his holiday in Switzerland he find only an empty hole
where his house had been. This was all done en regle, and in our
work we shall be en regle too. We shall not go so early that the
policemen who have then little to think of, shall deem it
strange. But we shall go after ten o'clock, when there are many
about, and such things would be done were we indeed owners of
the house."
I could not but see how right he was and the terrible despair
of Mina's face became relaxed in thought. There was hope in such
good counsel.
Van Helsing went on, "When once within that house we may find
more clues. At any rate some of us can remain there whilst the
rest find the other places where there be more earth boxes, at
Bermondsey and Mile End."
Lord Godalming stood up. "I can be of some use here," he
said. "I shall wire to my people to have horses and carriages
where they will be most convenient."
"Look here, old fellow," said Morris, "it is a capital idea
to have all ready in case we want to go horse backing, but don't
you think that one of your snappy carriages with its heraldic
adornments in a byway of Walworth or Mile End would attract too
much attention for our purpose? It seems to me that we ought to
take cabs when we go south or east. And even leave them
somewhere near the neighborhood we are going to."
"Friend Quincey is right!" said the Professor. "His head is
what you call in plane with the horizon. It is a difficult thing
that we go to do, and we do not want no peoples to watch us if
so it may."
Mina took a growing interest in everything and I was rejoiced
to see that the exigency of affairs was helping her to forget
for a time the terrible experience of the night. She was very,
very pale, almost ghastly, and so thin that her lips were drawn
away, showing her teeth in somewhat of prominence. I did not
mention this last, lest it should give her needless pain, but it
made my blood run cold in my veins to think of what had occurred
with poor Lucy when the Count had sucked her blood. As yet there
was no sign of the teeth growing sharper, but the time as yet
was short, and there was time for fear.
When we came to the discussion of the sequence of our efforts
and of the disposition of our forces, there were new sources of
doubt. It was finally agreed that before starting for Piccadilly
we should destroy the Count's lair close at hand. In case he
should find it out too soon, we should thus be still ahead of
him in our work of destruction. And his presence in his purely
material shape, and at his weakest, might give us some new clue.
A s to the disposal of forces, it was suggested by the
Professor that, after our visit to Carfax, we should all enter
the house in Piccadilly. That the two doctors and I should
remain there, whilst Lord Godalming and Quincey found the lairs
at Walworth and Mile End and destroyed them. It was possible, if
not likely, the Professor urged, that the Count might appear in
Piccadilly during the day, and that if so we might be able to
cope with him then and there. At any rate, we might be able to
follow him in force. To this plan I strenuously objected, and so
far as my going was concerned, for I said that I intended to
stay and protect Mina. I thought that my mind was made up on the
subject, but Mina would not listen to my objection. She said
that there might be some law matter in which I could be useful.
That amongst the Count's papers might be some clue which I could
understand out of my experience in Transylvania. And that, as it
was, all the strength we could muster was required to cope with
the Count's extraordinary power. I had to give in, for Mina's
resolution was fixed. She said that it was the last hope for her
that we should all work together.
"As for me," she said, "I have no fear. Things have been as
bad as they can be. And whatever may happen must have in it some
element of hope or comfort. Go, my husband! God can, if He
wishes it, guard me as well alone as with any one present."
So I started up crying out, "Then in God's name let us come
at once, for we are losing time. The Count may come to
Piccadilly earlier than we think."
"Not so!" said Van Helsing, holding up his hand.
"But why?" I asked.
"Do you forget," he said, with actually a smile, "that last
night he banqueted heavily, and will sleep late?"
Did I forget! Shall I ever . . . can I ever! Can any of us
ever forget that terrible scene! Mina struggled hard to keep her
brave countenance, but the pain overmastered her and she put her
hands before her face, and shuddered whilst she moaned. Van
Helsing had not intended to recall her frightful experience. He
had simply lost sight of her and her part in the affair in his
intellectual effort.
When it struck him what he said, he was horrified at his
thoughtlessness and tried to comfort her.
"Oh, Madam Mina," he said,"dear, dear, Madam Mina, alas! That
I of all who so reverence you should have said anything so
forgetful. These stupid old lips of mine and this stupid old
head do not deserve so, but you will forget it, will you not?"
He bent low beside her as he spoke.
She took his hand, and looking at him through her tears, said
hoarsely, "No, I shall not forget, for it is well that I
remember. And with it I have so much in memory of you that is
sweet, that I take it all together. Now, you must all be going
soon. Breakfast is ready, and we must all eat that we may be
strong."
Breakfast was a strange meal to us all. We tried to be
cheerful and encourage each other, and Mina was the brightest
and most cheerful of us. When it was over, Van Helsing stood up
and said, "Now, my dear friends, we go forth to our terrible
enterprise. Are we all armed, as we were on that night when
first we visited our enemy's lair. Armed against ghostly as well
as carnal attack?"
We all assured him.
"Then it is well. Now, Madam Mina, you are in any case quite
safe here until the sunset. And before then we shall return . .
. if . . . We shall return! But before we go let me see you
armed against personal attack. I have myself, since you came
down, prepared your chamber by the placing of things of which we
know, so that He may not enter. Now let me guard yourself. On
your forehead I touch this piece of Sacred Wafer in the name of
the Father, the Son, and . . .
There was a fearful scream which almost froze our hearts to
hear. As he had placed the Wafer on Mina's forehead, it had
seared it . . . had burned into the flesh as though it had been
a piece of whitehot metal. My poor darling's brain had told her
the significance of the fact as quickly as her nerves received
the pain of it, and the two so overwhelmed her that her
overwrought nature had its voice in that dreadful scream.
But the words to her thought came quickly. The echo of the
scream had not ceased to ring on the air when there came the
reaction, and she sank on her knees on the floor in an agony of
abasement. Pulling her beautiful hair over her face, as the
leper of old his mantle, she wailed out.
"Unclean! Unclean! Even the Almighty shuns my polluted flesh!
I must bear this mark of shame upon my forehead until the
Judgement Day."
They all paused. I had thrown myself beside her in an agony
of helpless grief, and putting my arms around held her tight.
For a few minutes our sorrowful hearts beat together, whilst the
friends around us turned away their eyes that ran tears
silently. Then Van Helsing turned and said gravely. So gravely
that I could not help feeling that he was in some way inspired,
and was stating things outside himself.
"It may be that you may have to bear that mark till God
himself see fit, as He most surely shall, on the Judgement Day,
to redress all wrongs of the earth and of His children that He
has placed thereon. And oh, Madam Mina, my dear, my dear, may we
who love you be there to see, when that red scar, the sign of
God's knowledge of what has been, shall pass away, and leave
your forehead as pure as the heart we know. For so surely as we
live, that scar shall pass away when God sees right to lift the
burden that is hard upon us. Till then we bear our Cross, as His
Son did in obedience to His Will. It may be that we are chosen
instruments of His good pleasure, and that we ascend to His
bidding as that other through stripes and shame. Through tears
and blood. Through doubts and fear, and all that makes the
difference between God and man."
There was hope in his words, and comfort. And they made for
resignation. Mina and I both felt so, and simultaneously we each
took one of the old man's hands and bent over and kissed it.
Then without a word we all knelt down together, and all holding
hands, swore to be true to each other. We men pledged ourselves
to raise the veil of sorrow from the head of her whom, each in
his own way, we loved. And we prayed for help and guidance in
the terrible task which lay before us. It was then time to
start. So I said farewell to Mina, a parting which neither of us
shall forget to our dying day, and we set out.
To one thing I have made up my mind. If we find out that Mina
must be a vampire in the end, then she shall not go into that
unknown and terrible land alone. I suppose it is thus that in
old times one vampire meant many. Just as their hideous bodies
could only rest in sacred earth, so the holiest love was the
recruiting sergeant for their ghastly ranks.
We entered Carfax without trouble and found all things the
same as on the first occasion. It was hard to believe that
amongst so prosaic surroundings of neglect and dust and decay
there was any ground for such fear as already we knew. Had not
our minds been made up, and had there not been terrible memories
to spur us on, we could hardly have proceeded with our task. We
found no papers, or any sign of use in the house. And in the old
chapel the great boxes looked just as we had seen them last.
Dr. Van Helsing said to us solemnly as we stood before him,
"And now, my friends, we have a duty here to do. We must
sterilize this earth, so sacred of holy memories, that he has
brought from a far distant land for such fell use. He has chosen
this earth because it has been holy. Thus we defeat him with his
own weapon, for we make it more holy still. It was sanctified to
such use of man, now we sanctify it to God."
As he spoke he took from his bag a screwdriver and a wrench,
and very soon the top of one of the cases was thrown open. The
earth smelled musty and close, but we did not somehow seem to
mind, for our attention was concentrated on the Professor.
Taking from his box a piece of the Scared Wafer he laid it
reverently on the earth, and then shutting down the lid began to
screw it home, we aiding him as he worked.
One by one we treated in the same way each of the great
boxes, and left them as we had found them to all appearance. But
in each was a portion of the Host. When we closed the door
behind us, the Professor said solemnly, "So much is already
done. It may be that with all the others we can be so
successful, then the sunset of this evening may shine of Madam
Mina's forehead all white as ivory and with no stain!"
As we passed across the lawn on our way to the station to
catch our train we could see the front of the asylum. I looked
eagerly, and in the window of my own room saw Mina. I waved my
hand to her, and nodded to tell that our work there was
successfully accomplished. She nodded in reply to show that she
understood. The last I saw, she was waving her hand in farewell.
It was with a heavy heart that we sought the station and just
caught the train, which was steaming in as we reached the
platform. I have written this in the train.
Piccadilly, 12:30 o'clock.--Just before we reached Fenchurch
Street Lord Godalming said to me, "Quincey and I will find a
locksmith. You had better not come with us in case there should
be any difficulty. For under the circumstances it wouldn't seem
so bad for us to break into an empty house. But you are a
solicitor and the Incorporated Law Society might tell you that
you should have known better."
I demurred as to my not sharing any danger even of odium, but
he went on, "Besides, it will attract less attention if there
are not too many of us. My title will make it all right with the
locksmith, and with any policeman that may come along. You had
better go with Jack and the Professor and stay in the Green
Park. Somewhere in sight of the house, and when you see the door
opened and the smith has gone away, do you all come across. We
shall be on the lookout for you, and shall let you in."
"The advice is good!" said Van Helsing, so we said no more.
Godalming and Morris hurried off in a cab, we following in
another. At the corner of Arlington Street our contingent got
out and strolled into the Green Park. My heart beat as I saw the
house on which so much of our hope was centered, looming up grim
and silent in its deserted condition amongst its more lively and
spruce-looking neighbors. We sat down on a bench within good
view , and began to smoke cigars so as to attract as little
attention as possible. The minutes seemed to pass with leaden
feet as we waited for the coming of the others.
At length we saw a four-wheeler drive up. Out of it, in
leisurely fashion, got Lord Godalming and Morris. And down from
the box descended a thick-set working man with his rush-woven
basket of tools. Morris paid the cabman, who touched his hat and
drove away. Together the two ascended the steps, and Lord
Godalming pointed out what he wanted done. The workman took off
his coat leisurely and hung it on one of the spikes of the rail,
saying something to a policeman who just then sauntered along.
The policeman nodded acquiescence, and the man kneeling down
placed his bag beside him. After searching through it, he took
out a selection of tools which he proceeded to lay beside him in
orderly fashion. Then he stood up, looked in the keyhole, blew
into it, and turning to his employers, made some remark. Lord
Godalming smiled, and the man lifted a good sized bunch of keys.
Selecting one of them, he began to probe the lock, as if feeling
his way with it. After fumbling about for a bit he tried a
second, and then a third. All at once the door opened under a
slight push from him, and he and the two others entered the
hall. We sat still. My own cigar burnt furiously, but Van
Helsing's went cold altogether. We waited patiently as we saw
the workman come out and bring his bag. Then he held the door
partly open, steadying it with his knees, whilst he fitted a key
to the lock. This he finally handed to Lord Godalming, who took
out his purse and gave him something. The man touched his hat,
took his bag, put on his coat and departed. Not a soul took the
slightest notice of the whole transaction.
When the man had fairly gone, we three crossed the street and
knocked at the door. It was immediately opened by Quincey
Morris, beside whom stood Lord Godalming lighting a cigar.
"The place smells so vilely," said the latter as we came in.
It did indeed smell vilely. Like the old chapel at Carfax. And
with our previous experience it was plain to us that the Count
had been using the place pretty freely. We moved to explore the
house, all keeping together in case of attack, for we knew we
had a strong and wily enemy to deal with, and as yet we did not
know whether the Count might not be in the house.
In the dining room, which lay at the back of the hall, we
found eight boxes of earth. Eight boxes only out of the nine
which we sought! Our work was not over, and would never be until
we should have found the missing box.
First we opened the shutters of the window which looked out
across a narrow stone flagged yard at the blank face of a
stable, pointed to look like the front of a miniature house.
There were no windows in it, so we were not afraid of being
overlooked. We did not lose any time in examining the chests.
With the tools which we had brought with us we opened them, one
by one, and treated them as we had treated those others in the
old chapel. It was evident to us that the Count was not at
present in the house, and we proceeded to search for any of his
effects.
After a cursory glance at the rest of the rooms, from
basement to attic, we came to the conclusion that the dining
room contained any effects which might belong to the Count. And
so we proceeded to minutely examine them. They lay in a sort of
orderly disorder on the great dining room table.
There were title deeds of the Piccadilly house in a great
bundle, deeds of the purchase of the houses at Mile End and
Bermondsey, notepaper, envelopes, and pens and ink. All were
covered up in thin wrapping paper to keep them from the dust.
There were also a clothes brush, a brush and comb, and a jug and
basin. The latter containing dirty water which was reddened as
if with blood. Last of all was a little heap of keys of all
sorts and sizes, probably those belonging to the other houses.
When we had examined this last find, Lord Godalming and
Quincey Morris taking accurate notes of the various addresses of
the houses in the East and the South, took with them the keys in
a great bunch, and set out to destroy the boxes in these places.
The rest of us are, with what patience we can, waiting their
return, or the coming of the Count.
|

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Chapter 23
DR. SEWARD'S DIARY
3 October.--The time seemed teribly long whilst we were
waiting for the coming of Godalming and Quincey Morris. The
Professor tried to keep our minds active by using them all the
time. I could see his beneficent purpose, by the side glances
which he threw from time to time at Harker. The poor fellow is
overwhelmed in a misery that is appalling to see. Last night he
was a frank, happy-looking man, with strong, youthful face, full
of energy, and with dark brown hair. Today he is a drawn,
haggard old man, whose white hair matches well with the hollow
burning eyes and griefwritten lines of his face. His energy is
still intact. In fact, he is like a living flame. This may yet
be his salvation, for if all go well, it will tide him over the
despairing period. He will then, in a kind of way, wake again to
the realities o f life. Poor fellow, I thought my own trouble
was bad enough, but his . . .!
The Professor knows this well enough, and is doing his best
to keep his mind active. What he has been saying was, under the
circumstances, of absorbing interest. So well as I can remember,
here it is:
"I have studied, over and over again since they came into my
hands, all the papers relating to this monster, and the more I
have studied, the greater seems the necessity to utterly stamp
him out. All through there are signs of his advance. Not only of
his power, but of his knowledge of it. As I learned from the
researches of my friend Arminius of Buda-Pesth, he was in life a
most wonderful man. Soldier, statesman, and alchemist. Which
latter was the highest development of the science knowledge of
his time. He had a mighty brain, a learning beyond compare, and
a heart that knew no fear and no remorse. He dared even to
attend the Scholomance, and there was no branch of knowledge of
his time that he did not essay.
"Well, in him the brain powers survived the physical death.
Though it would seem that memory was not all complete. In some
faculties of mind he has been, and is, only a child. But he is
growing, and some things that were childish at the first are now
of man's stature. He is experimenting, and doing it well. And if
it had not been that we have crossed his path he would be yet,
he may be yet if we fail, the father or furtherer of a new order
of beings, whose road must lead through Death, not Life."
Harker groaned and said, "And this is all arrayed against my
darling! But how is he experimenting? The knowledge may help us
to defeat him!"
"He has all along, since his coming, been trying his power,
slowly but surely. That big child-brain of his is working. Well
for us, it is as yet, a child-brain. For had he dared, at the
first, to attempt certain things he would long ago have been
beyond our power. However, he means to succeed, and a man who
has centuries before him can afford to wait and to go slow.
Festina lente may well be his motto."
"I fail to understand," said Harker wearily. "Oh, do be more
plain to me! Perhaps grief and trouble are dulling my brain."
The Professor laid his hand tenderly on his shoulder as he
spoke, "Ah, my child, I will be plain. Do you not see how, of
late, this monster has been creeping into knowledge
experimentally. How he has been making use of the zoophagous
patient to effect his entry into friend John's home. For your
Vampire, though in all afterwards he can come when and how he
will, must at the first make entry only when asked thereto by an
inmate. But these are not his most important experiments. Do we
not see how at the first all these so great boxes were moved by
others. He knew not then but that must be so. But all the time
that so great child-brain of his was growing, and he began to
consider whether he might not himself move the box. So he began
to help. And then, when he found that this be all right, he try
to move them all alone. And so he progress, and he scatter these
graves of him. And none but he know where they are hidden.
"He may have intend to bury them deep in the ground. So that
only he use them in the night, or at such time as he can change
his form, they do him equal well, and none may know these are
his hiding place! But, my child, do not despair, this knowledge
came to him just too late! Already all of his lairs but one be
sterilize as for him. And before the sunset this shall be so.
Then he have no place where he can move and hide. I delayed this
morning that so we might be sure. Is there not more at stake for
us than for him? Then why not be more careful than him? By my
clock it is one hour and already, if all be well, friend Arthur
and Quincey are on their way to us. Today is our day, and we
must go sure, if slow, and lose no chance. See! There are five
of us when those absent ones return."
Whilst we were speaking we were startled by a knock at the
hall door, the double postman's knock of the telegraph boy. We
all moved out to the hall with one impulse, and Van Helsing,
holding up his hand to us to keep silence, stepped to the door
and opened it. The boy handed in a dispatch. The Professor
closed the door again, and after looking at the direction,
opened it and read aloud.
"Look out for D. He has just now, 12:45, come from Carfax
hurriedly and hastened towards the South. He seems to be going
the round and may want to see you: Mina."
There was a pause, broken by Jonathan Harker's voice, "Now,
God be thanked, we shall soon meet!"
Van Helsing turned to him quickly and said, "God will act in
His own way and time. Do not fear, and do not rejoice as yet.
For what we wish for at the moment may be our own undoings."
"I care for nothing now," he answered hotly, "except to wipe
out this brute from the face of creation. I would sell my soul
to do it!"
"Oh, hush, hush, my child!" said Van Helsing. "God does not
purchase souls in this wise, and the Devil, though he may
purchase, does not keep faith. But God is merciful and just, and
knows your pain and your devotion to that dear Madam Mina. Think
you, how her pain would be doubled, did she but hear your wild
words. Do not fear any of us, we are all devoted to this cause,
and today shall see the end. The time is coming for action.
Today this Vampire is limit to the powers of man, and till
sunset he may not change. It will take him time to arrive here,
see it is twenty minutes past one, and there are yet some times
before he can hither come, be he never so quick. What we must
hope for is that my Lord Arthur and Quincey arrive first."
About half an hour after we had received Mrs. Harker's
telegram, there came a quiet, resolute knock at the hall door.
It was just an ordinary knock, such as is given hourly by
thousands of gentlemen, but it made the Professor's heart and
mine beat loudly. We looked at each other, and together moved
out into the hall. We each held ready to use our various
armaments, the spiritual in the left hand, the mortal in the
right. Van Helsing pulled back the latch, and holding the door
half open, stood back, having both hands ready for action. The
gladness of our hearts must have shown upon our faces when on
the step, close to the door, we saw Lord Godalming and Quincey
Morris. They came quickly in and closed the door behind them,
the former saying, as they moved along the hall.
"It is all right. We found both places. Six boxes in each and
we destroyed them all."
"Destroyed?" asked the Professor.
"For him!" We were silent for a minute, and then Quincey
said, "There's nothing to do but to wait here. If, however, he
doesn't turn up by five o'clock, we must start off. For it won't
do to leave Mrs. Harker alone after sunset."
"He will be here before long now,' said Van Helsing, who had
been consulting his pocketbook. "Nota bene, in Madam's telegram
he went south from Carfax. That means he went to cross the
river, and he could only do so at slack of tide, which should be
something before one o'clock. That he went south has a meaning
for us. He is as yet only suspicious, and he went from Carfax
first to the place where he would suspect interference least.
You must have been at Bermondsey only a short time before him.
That he is not here already shows that he went to Mile End next.
This took him some time, for he would then have to be carried
over the river in some way. Believe me, my friends, we shall not
have long to wait now. We should have ready some plan of attack,
so that we may throw away no chance. Hush, there is no time now.
Have all your arms! Be ready!" He held up a warning hand as he
spoke, for we all could hear a key softly inserted in the lock
of the hall door.
I could not but admire, even at such a moment, the way in
which a dominant spirit asserted itself. In all our hunting
parties and adventures in different parts of the world, Quincey
Morris had always been the one to arrange the plan of action,
and Arthur and I had been accustomed to obey him implicitly.
Now, the old habit seemed to be renewed instinctively. With a
swift glance around the room, he at once laid out our plan of
attack, and without speaking a word, with a gesture, placed us
each in position. Van Helsing, Harker, and I were just behind
the door, so that when it was opened the Professor could guard
it whilst we two stepped between the incomer and the door.
Godalming behind and Quincey in front stood just out of sight
ready to move in front of the window. We waited in a suspense
that made the seconds pass with nightmare slowness. The slow,
careful steps came along the hall. The Count was evidently
prepared for some surprise, at least he feared it.
Suddenly with a single bound he leaped into the room. Winning
a way past us before any of us could raise a hand to stay him.
There was something so pantherlike in the movement, something so
unhuman, that it seemed to sober us all from the shock of his
coming. The first to act was Harker, who with a quick movement,
threw himself before the door leading into the room in the front
of the house. As the Count saw us, a horrible sort of snarl
passed over his face, showing the eyeteeth long and pointed. But
the evil smile as quickly passed into a cold stare of lion-like
disdain. His expression again changed as, with a single impulse,
we all advanced upon him. It was a pity that we had not some
better organized plan of attack, for even at the moment I
wondered what we were to do. I did not myself know whether our
lethal weapons would avail us anything.
Harker evidently meant to try the matter, for he had ready
his great Kukri knife and made a fierce and sudden cut at him.
The blow was a powerful one. Only the diabolical quickness of
the Count's leap back saved him. A second less and the trenchant
blade had shorn through his coat, making a wide gap whence a
bundle of bank notes and a stream of gold fell out. The
expression of the Count's face was so hellish, that for a moment
I feared for Harker, though I saw him throw the terrible knife
aloft again for another stroke. Instinctively I moved forward
with a protective impulse, holding the Crucifix and Wafer in my
left hand. I felt a mighty power fly along my arm, and it was
without surprise that I saw the monster cower back before a
similar movement made spontaneously by each one of us. It would
be impossible to describe the expression of hate and baffled
malignity, of anger and hellish rage, which came over the
Count's face. His waxen hue became greenish-yellow by the
contrast of his burning eyes, and the red scar on the forehead
showed on the pallid skin like a palpitating wound. The next
instant, with a sinuous dive he swept under Harker's arm, ere
his blow could fall, and grasping a handful of the money from
the floor, dashed across the room, threw himself at the window.
Amid the crash and glitter of the falling glass, he tumbled into
the flagged area below. Through the sound of the shivering glass
I could hear the "ting" of the gold, as some of the sovereigns
fell on the flagging.
We ran over and saw him spring unhurt from the ground. He,
rushing up the steps, crossed the flagged yard, and pushed open
the stable door. There he turned and spoke to us.
"You think to baffle me, you with your pale faces all in a
row, like sheep in a butcher's. You shall be sorry yet, each one
of you! You think you have left me without a place to rest, but
I have more. My revenge is just begun! I spread it over
centuries, and time is on my side. Your girls that you all love
are mine already. And through them you and others shall yet be
mine, my creatures, to do my bidding and to be my jackals when I
want to feed. Bah!"
With a contemptuous sneer, he passed quickly through the
door, and we heard the rusty bolt creak as he fastened it behind
him. A door beyond opened and shut. The first of us to speak was
the Professor. Realizing the difficulty of following him through
the stable, we moved toward the hall.
"We have learnt something . . . much! Notwithstanding his
brave words, he fears us. He fears time, he fears want! For if
not, why he hurry so? His very tone betray him, or my ears
deceive. Why take that money? You follow quick. You are hunters
of the wild beast, and understand it so. For me, I make sure
that nothing here may be of use to him, if so that he returns."
As he spoke he put the money remaining in his pocket, took
the title deeds in the bundle as Harker had left them, and swept
the remaining things into the open fireplace, where he set fire
to them with a match.
Godalming and Morris had rushed out into the yard, and Harker
had lowered himself from the window to follow the Count. He had,
however, bolted the stable door, and by the time they had forced
it open there was no sign of him. Van Helsing and I tried to
make inquiry at the back of the house. But the mews was deserted
and no one had seen him depart.
It was now late in the afternoon, and sunset was not far off.
We had to recognize that our game was up. With heavy hearts we
agreed with the Professor when he said, "Let us go back to Madam
Mina. Poor, poor dear Madam Mina. All we can do just now is
done, and we can there, at least, protect her. But we need not
despair. There is but one more earth box, and we must try to
find it. When that is done all may yet be well."
I could see that he spoke as bravely as he could to comfort
Harker. The poor fellow was quite broken down, now and again he
gave a low groan which he could not suppress. He was thinking of
his wife.
With sad hearts we came back to my house, where we found Mrs.
Harker waiting us, with an appearance of cheerfulness which did
honor to her bravery and unselfishness. When she saw our faces,
her own became as pale as death. For a second or two her eyes
were closed as if she were in secret prayer.
And then she said cheerfully, "I can never thank you all
enough. Oh, my poor darling!"
As she spoke, she took her husband's grey head in her hands
and kissed it.
"Lay your poor head here and rest it. All will yet be well,
dear! God will protect us if He so will it in His good intent."
The poor fellow groaned. There was no place for words in his
sublime misery.
We had a sort of perfunctory supper together, and I think it
cheered us all up somewhat. It was, perhaps, the mere animal
heat of food to hungry people, for none of us had eaten anything
since breakfast, or the sense of companionship may have helped
us, but anyhow we were all less miserable, and saw the morrow as
not altogether without hope.
True to our promise, we told Mrs. Harker everything which had
passed. And although she grew snowy white at times when danger
had seemed to threaten her husband, and red at others when his
devotion to her was manifested she listened bravely and with
calmness. When we came to the part where Harker had rushed at
the Count so recklessly, she clung to her husband's arm, and
held it tight as though her clinging could protect him from any
harm that might come. She said nothing, however, till the
narration was all done,and matters had been brought up to the
present time.
Then without letting go her husband's hand she stood up
amongst us and spoke. Oh, that I could give any idea of the
scene. Of that sweet, sweet, good, good woman in all the radiant
beauty of her youth and animation, with the red scar on her
forehead, of which she was conscious, and which we saw with
grinding of our teeth, remembering whence and how it came. Her
loving kindness against our grim hate. Her tender faith against
all our fears and doubting. And we, knowing that so far as
symbols went, she with all her goodness and purity and faith,
was outcast from God.
"Jonathan," she said, and the word sounded like music on her
lips it was so full of love and tenderness, "Jonathan dear, and
you all my true, true friends, I want you to bear something in
mind through all this dreadful time. I know that you must fight.
That you must destroy even as you destroyed the false Lucy so
that the true Lucy might live hereafter. But it is not a work of
hate. That poor soul who has wrought all this misery is the
saddest case of all. Just think what will be his joy when he,
too, is destroyed in his worser part that his better part may
have spiritual immortality. You must be pitiful to him,
too,though it may not hold your hands from his destruction."
As she spoke I could see her husband's face darken and draw
together, as though the passion in him were shriveling his being
to its core. Instinctively the clasp on his wife's hand grew
closer, till his knuckles looked white. She did not flinch from
the pain which I knew she must have suffered, but looked at him
with eyes that were more appealing than ever.
As she stopped speaking he leaped to his feet, almost tearing
his hand from hers as he spoke.
"May God give him into my hand just for long enough to
destroy that earthly life of him which we are aiming at. If
beyond it I could send his soul forever and ever to burning hell
I would do it!"
"Oh, hush! Oh, hush in the name of the good God. Don't say
such things, Jonathan, my husband, or you will crush me with
fear and horror. Just think, my dear . . . I have been thinking
all this long, long day of it . . . that . . . perhaps . . .some
day . . . I, too, may need such pity, and that some other like
you, and with equal cause for anger, may deny it to me! Oh, my
husband! My husband, indeed I would have spared you such a
thought had there been another way. But I pray that God may not
have treasured your wild words, except as the heart-broken wail
of a very loving and sorely stricken man. Oh, God, let these
poor white hairs go in evidence of what he has suffered, who all
his life has done no wrong, and on whom so many sorrows have
come."
We men were all in tears now. There was no resisting them,
and we wept openly. She wept, too, to see that her sweeter
counsels had prevailed. Her husband flung himself on his knees
beside her, and putting his arms round her, hid his face in the
folds of her dress. Van Helsing beckoned to us and we stole out
of the room, leaving the two loving hearts alone with their God.
Before they retired the Professor fixed up the room against
any coming of the Vampire, and assured Mrs. Harker that she
might rest in peace. She tried to school herself to the belief,
and manifestly for her husband's sake, tried to seem content. It
was a brave struggle, and was, I think and believe, not without
its reward. Van Helsing had placed at hand a bell which either
of them was to sound in case of any emergency. When they had
retired, Quincey, Godalming, and I arranged that we should sit
up, dividing the night between us, and watch over the safety of
the poor stricken lady. The first watch falls to Quincey, so the
rest of us shall be off to bed as soon as we can.
Godalming has already turned in, for his is the second watch.
Now that my work is done I, too, shall go to bed.
JONATHAN HARKER'S JOURNAL
3-4 October, close to midnight.--I thought yesterday would
never end. There was over me a yearning for sleep, in some sort
of blind belief that to wake would be to find things changed,
and that any change must now be for the better. Before we
parted, we discussed what our next step was to be, but we could
arrive at no result. All we knew was that one earth box
remained, and that the Count alone knew where it was. If he
chooses to lie hidden, he may baffle us for years. And in the
meantime, the thought is too horrible, I dare not think of it
even now. This I know, that if ever there was a woman who was
all perfection, that one is my poor wronged darling. I loved her
a thousand times more for her sweet pity of last night, a pity
that made my own hate of the monster seem despicable. Surely God
will not permit the world to be the poorer by the loss of such a
creature. This is hope to me. We are all drifting reefwards now,
and faith is our only anchor. Thank God! Mina is sleeping, and
sleeping without dreams. I fear what her dreams might be like,
with such terrible memories to ground them in. She has not been
so calm, within my seeing, since the sunset. Then, for a while,
there came over her face a repose which was like spring after
the blasts of March. I thought at the time that it was the
softness of the red sunset on her face, but somehow now I think
it has a deeper meaning. I am not sleepy myself, though I am
weary . . . weary to death. However, I must try to sleep. For
there is tomorrow to think of, and there is no rest for me until
. . .
Later--I must have fallen asleep, for I was awakened by Mina,
who was sitting up in bed, with a startled look on her face. I
could see easily, for we did not leave the room in darkness. She
had placed a warning hand over my mouth, and now she whispered
in my ear, "Hush! There is someone in the corridor!" I got up
softly, and crossing the room, gently opened the door.
Just outside, stretched on a mattress, lay Mr. Morris, wide
awake. He raised a warning hand for silence as he whispered to
me, "Hush! Go back to bed. It is all right. One of us will be
here all night. We don't mean to take any chances!"
His look and gesture forbade discussion, so I came back and
told Mina. She sighed and positively a shadow of a smile stole
over her poor, pale face as she put her arms round me and said
softly, "Oh, thank God for good brave men!" With a sigh she sank
back again to sleep. I write this now as I am not sleepy, though
I must try again.
4 October, morning.--Once again during the night I was
wakened by Mina. This time we had all had a good sleep, for the
grey of the coming dawn was making the windows into sharp
oblongs, and the gas flame was like a speck rather than a disc
of light.
She said to me hurriedly, "Go, call the Professor. I want to
see him at once."
"Why?" I asked.
"I have an idea. I suppose it must have come in the night,
and matured without my knowing it. He must hypnotize me before
the dawn, and then I shall be able to speak. Go quick, dearest,
the time is getting close."
I went to the door. Dr. Seward was resting on the mattress,
and seeing me, he sprang to his feet.
"Is anything wrong?" he asked, in alarm.
"No," I replied. "But Mina wants to see Dr. Van Helsing at
once."
"I will go," he said, and hurried into the Professor's room.
Two or three minutes later Van Helsing was in the room in his
dressing gown, and Mr. Morris and Lord Godalming were with Dr.
Seward at the door asking questions. When the Professor saw Mina
a smile, a positive smile ousted the anxiety of his face.
He rubbed his hands as he said, "Oh, my dear Madam Mina, this
is indeed a change. See! Friend Jonathan, we have got our dear
Madam Mina, as of old, back to us today!" Then turning to her,
he said cheerfully, "And what am I to do for you? For at this
hour you do not want me for nothing."
"I want you to hypnotize me!" she said. "Do it before the
dawn, for I feel that then I can speak, and speak freely. Be
quick, for the time is short!" Without a word he motioned her to
sit up in bed.
Looking fixedly at her, he commenced to make passes in front
of her, from over the top of her head downward, with each hand
in turn. Mina gazed at him fixedly for a few minutes, during
which my own heart beat like a trip hammer, for I felt that some
crisis was at hand. Gradually her eyes closed, and she sat,
stock still. Only by the gentle heaving of her bosom could one
know that she was alive. The Professor made a few more passes
and then stopped, and I could see that his forehead was covered
with great beads of perspiration. Mina opened her eyes, but she
did not seem the same woman. There was a far-away look in her
eyes, and her voice had a sad dreaminess which was new to me.
Raising his hand to impose silence, the Professor motioned to me
to bring the others in. They came on tiptoe, closing the door
behind them, and stood at the foot of the bed, looking on. Mina
appeared not to see them. The stillness was broken by Van
Helsing's voice speaking in a low level tone which would not
break the current of her thoughts.
"Where are you?" The answer came in a neutral way.
"I do not know. Sleep has no place it can call its own." For
several minutes there was silence. Mina sat rigid, and the
Professor stood staring at her fixedly.
The rest of us hardly dared to breathe. The room was growing
lighter. Without taking his eyes from Mina's face, Dr. Van
Helsing motioned me to pull up the blind. I did so, and the day
seemed just upon us. A red streak shot up, and a rosy light
seemed to diffuse itself through the room. On the instant the
Professor spoke again.
"Where are you now?"
The answer came dreamily, but with intention. It were as
though she were interpreting something. I have heard her use the
same tone when reading her shorthand notes.
"I do not know. It is all strange to me!"
"What do you see?"
"I can see nothing. It is all dark."
"What do you hear?" I could detect the strain in the
Professor's patient voice.
"The lapping of water. It is gurgling by, and little waves
leap. I can hear them on the outside."
"Then you are on a ship?'"
We all looked at each other, trying to glean something each
from the other. We were afraid to think.
The answer came quick, "Oh, yes!"
"What else do you hear?"
"The sound of men stamping overhead as they run about. There
is the creaking of a chain, and the loud tinkle as the check of
the capstan falls into the ratchet."
"What are you doing?"
"I am still, oh so still. It is like death!" The voice faded
away into a deep breath as of one sleeping, and the open eyes
closed again.
By this time the sun had risen, and we were all in the full
light of day. Dr. Van Helsing placed his hands on Mina's
shoulders, and laid her head down softly on her pillow. She lay
like a sleeping child for a few moments, and then, with a long
sigh, awoke and stared in wonder to see us all around her.
"Have I been talking in my sleep?" was all she said. She
seemed, however, to know the situation without telling,though
she was eager to know what she had told. The Professor repeated
the conversation, and she said, "Then there is not a moment to
lose. It may not be yet too late!"
Mr. Morris and Lord Godalming started for the door but the
Professor's calm voice called them back.
"Stay, my friends. That ship, wherever it was, was weighing
anchor at the moment in your so great Port of London. Which of
them is it that you seek? God be thanked that we have once again
a clue, though whither it may lead us we know not. We have been
blind somewhat. Blind after the manner of men, since we can look
back we see what we might have seen looking forward if we had
been able to see what we might have seen! Alas, but that
sentence is a puddle, is it not? We can know now what was in the
Count's mind, when he seize that money, though Jonathan's so
fierce knife put him in the danger that even he dread. He meant
escape. Hear me, ESCAPE! He saw that with but one earth box
left, and a pack of men following like dogs after a fox, this
London was no place for him. He have take his last earth box on
board a ship, and he leave the land. He think to escape, but no!
We follow him. Tally Ho! As friend Arthur would say when he put
on his red frock! Our old fox is wily. Oh! So wily, and we must
follow with wile. I, too, am wily and I think his mind in a
little while. In meantime we may rest and in peace, for there
are between us which he do not want to pass, and which he could
not if he would. Unless the ship were to touch the land, and
then only at full or slack tide. See, and the sun is just rose,
and all day to sunset is us. Let us take bath, and dress, and
have breakfast which we all need, and which we can eat
comfortably since he be not in the same land with us."
Mina looked at him appealingly as she asked, "But why need we
seek him further, when he is gone away from us?"
He took her hand and patted it as he replied, "Ask me nothing
as yet. When we have breakfast, then I answer all questions." He
would say no more, and we separated to dress.
After breakfast Mina repeated her question. He looked at her
gravely for a minute and then said sorrowfully, "Because my
dear, dear Madam Mina, now more than ever must we find him even
if we have to follow him to the jaws of Hell!"
She grew paler as she asked faintly, "Why?"
"Because," he answered solemnly, "he can live for centuries,
and you are but mortal woman. Time is now to be dreaded, since
once he put that mark upon your throat."
I was just in time to catch her as she fell forward in a
faint.
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Chapter 24
DR. SEWARD'S PHONOGRAPH DIARY
SPOKEN BY VAN HELSING
This to Jonathan Harker.
You are to stay with your dear Madam Mina. We shall go to
make our search, if I can call it so, for it is not search but
knowing, and we seek confirmation only. But do you stay and take
care of her today. This is your best and most holiest office.
This day nothing can find him here.
Let me tell you that so you will know what we four know
already, for I have tell them. He, our enemy, have gone away. He
have gone back to his Castle in Transylvania. I know it so well,
as if a great hand of fire wrote it on the wall. He have prepare
for this in some way, and that last earth box was ready to ship
somewheres. For this he took the money. For this he hurry at the
last, lest we catch him before the sun go down. It was his last
hope, save that he might hide in the tomb that he think poor
Miss Lucy, being as he thought like him, keep open to him. But
there was not of time. When that fail he make straight for his
last resource, his last earthwork I might say did I wish double
entente. He is clever, oh so clever! He know that his game here
was finish. And so he decide he go back home. He find ship going
by the route he came, and he go in it.
We go off now to find what ship, and whither bound. When we
have discover that, we come back and tell you all. Then we will
comfort you and poor Madam Mina with new hope. For it will be
hope when you think it over, that all is not lost. This very
creature that we pursue, he take hundreds of years to get so far
as London. And yet in one day, when we know of the disposal of
him we drive him out. He is finite, though he is powerful to do
much harm and suffers not as we do. But we are strong, each in
our purpose, and we are all more strong together. Take heart
afresh, dear husband of Madam Mina. This battle is but begun and
in the end we shall win. So sure as that God sits on high to
watch over His children. Therefore be of much comfort till we
return.
VAN HELSING.
JONATHAN HARKER'S JOURNAL
4 October.--When I read to Mina, Van Helsing's message in the
phonograph, the poor girl brightened up considerably. Already
the certainty that the Count is out of the country has given her
comfort. And comfort is strength to her. For my own part, now
that his horrible danger is not face to face with us, it seems
almost impossible to believe in it. Even my own terrible
experiences in Castle Dracula seem like a long forgotten dream.
Here in the crisp autumn air in the bright sunlight.
Alas! How can I disbelieve! In the midst of my thought my eye
fell on the red scar on my poor darling's white forehead. Whilst
that lasts, there can be no disbelief. Mina and I fear to be
idle, so we have been over all the diaries again and again.
Somehow, although the reality seem greater each time, the pain
and the fear seem less. There is something of a guiding purpose
manifest throughout, which is comforting. Mina says that perhaps
we are the instruments of ultimate good. It may be! I shall try
to think as she does. We have never spoken to each other yet of
the future. It is better to wait till we see the Professor and
the others after their investigations.
The day is running by more quickly than I ever thought a day
could run for me again. It is now three o'clock.
MINA HARKER'S JOURNAL
5 October, 5 p. m.--Our meeting for report. Present:
Professor Van Helsing, Lord Godalming, Dr. Seward, Mr. Quincey
Morris, Jonathan Harker, Mina Harker.
Dr. Van Helsing described what steps were taken during the
day to discover on what boat and whither bound Count Dracula
made his escape.
"As I knew that he wanted to get back to Transylvania, I felt
sure that he must go by the Danube mouth, or by somewhere in the
Black Sea, since by that way he come. It was a dreary blank that
was before us. Omme Ignotum pro magnifico. And so with heavy
hearts we start to find what ships leave for the Black Sea last
night. He was in sailing ship, since Madam Mina tell of sails
being set. These not so important as to go in your list of the
shipping in the Times, and so we go, by suggestion of Lord
Godalming, to your Lloyd's, where are note of all ships that
sail, however so small. There we find that only one Black Sea
bound ship go out with the tide. She is the Czarina Catherine,
and she sail from Doolittle's Wharf for Varna, and thence to
other ports and up the Danube. `So!' said I, `this is the ship
whereon is the Count.' So off we go to Doolittle's Wharf, and
there we find a man in an office. From him we inquire o f the
goings of the Czarina Catherine. He swear much, and he red face
and loud of voice, but he good fellow all the same. And when
Quincey give him something from his pocket which crackle as he
roll it up, and put it in a so small bag which he have hid deep
in his clothing, he still better fellow and humble servant to
us. He come with us, and ask many men who are rough and hot.
These be better fellows too when they have been no more thirsty.
They say much of blood and bloom, and of others which I
comprehend not, though I guess what they mean. But nevertheless
they tell us all things which we want to know.
"They make known to us among them, how last afternoon at
about five o'clock comes a man so hurry. A tall man, thin and
pale, with high nose and teeth so white, and eyes that seem to
be burning. That he be all in black, except that he have a hat
of straw which suit not him or the time. That he scatter his
money in making quick inquiry as to what ship sails for the
Black Sea and for where. Some took him to the office and then to
the ship, where he will not go aboard but halt at shore end of
gangplank, and ask that the captain come to him. The captain
come, when told that he will be pay well, and though he swear
much at the first he agree to term. Then the thin man go and
some one tell him where horse and cart can be hired. He go there
and soon he come again, himself driving cart on which a great
box. This he himself lift down, though it take several to put it
on truck for the ship. He give much talk to captain as to how
and where his box is to be place. But the captain like it not
and swear at him in many tongues, and tell him that if he like
he can come and see where it shall be. But he say `no,' that he
come not yet, for that he have much to do. Whereupon the captain
tell him that he had better be quick, with blood, for that his
ship will leave the place, of blood, before the turn of the
tide, with blood. Then the thin man smile and say that of course
he must go when he think fit, but he will be surprise if he go
quite so soon. The captain swear again, polyglot, and the thin
man make him bow, and thank him, and say that he will so far
intrude on his kindness as to come aboard before the sailing.
Final the captain, more red than ever, and in more tongues, tell
him that he doesn't want no Frenchmen, with bloom upon them and
also with blood, in his ship, with blood on her also. And so,
after asking where he might purchase ship forms, he departed.
"No one knew where he went `or bloomin' well cared' as they
said, for they had something else to think of, well with blood
again. For it soon became apparent to all that the Czarina
Catherine would not sail as was expected. A thin mist began to
creep up from the river, and it grew, and grew. Till soon a
dense fog enveloped the ship and all around her. The captain
swore polyglot, very polyglot, polyglot with bloom and blood,
but he could do nothing. The water rose and rose, and he began
to fear that he would lose the tide altogether. He was in no
friendly mood, when just at full tide, the thin man came up the
gangplank again and asked to see where his box had been stowed.
Then the captain replied that he wished that he and his box, old
and with much bloom and blood, were in hell. But the thin man
did not be offend, and went down with the mate and saw where it
was place, and came up and stood awhile on deck in fog. He must
have come off by himself, for none notice him. Indeed they
thought not of him, for soon the fog begin to melt away, and all
was clear again. My friends of the thirst and the language that
was of bloom and blood laughed, as they told how the captain's
swears exceeded even his usual polyglot, and was more than ever
full of picturesque, when on questioning other mariners who were
on movement up and down the river that hour, he found that few
of them had seen any of fog at all, except where it lay round
the wharf. However, the ship went out on the ebb tide, and was
doubtless by morning far down the river mouth. She was then,
when they told us, well out to sea.
"And so, my dear Madam Mina, it is that we have to rest for a
time, for our enemy is on the sea, with the fog at his command,
on his way to the Danube mouth. To sail a ship takes time, go
she never so quick. And when we start to go on land more quick,
and we meet him there. Our best hope is to come on him when in
the box between sunrise and sunset. For then he can make no
struggle, and we may deal with him as we should. There are days
for us, in which we can make ready our plan. We know all about
where he go. For we have seen the owner of the ship, who have
shown us invoices and all papers that can be. The box we seek is
to be landed in Varna, and to be given to an agent, one Ristics
who will there present his credentials. And so our merchant
friend will have done his part. When he ask if there be any
wrong, for that so, he can telegraph and have inquiry made at
Varna, we say `no,' for what is to be done is not for police or
of the customs. It must be done by us alone and in our own way."
When Dr. Van Helsing had done speaking, I asked him if he
were certain that the Count had remained on board the ship. He
replied, "We have the best proof of that, your own evidence,
when in the hypnotic trance this morning."
I asked him again if it were really necessary that they
should pursue the Count, for oh! I dread Jonathan leaving me,
and I know that he would surely go if the others went. He
answered in growing passion, at first quietly. As he went on,
however, he grew more angry and more forceful, till in the end
we could not but see wherein was at least some of that personal
dominance which made him so long a master amongst men.
"Yes, it is necessary, necessary, necessary! For your sake in
the first, and then for the sake of humanity. This monster has
done much harm already, in the narrow scope where he find
himself, and in the short time when as yet he was only as a body
groping his so small measure in darkness and not knowing. All
this have I told these others. You, my dear Madam Mina, will
learn it in the phonograph of my friend John, or in that of your
husband. I have told them how the measure of leaving his own
barren land, barren of peoples,and coming to a new land where
life of man teems till they are like the multitude of standing
corn, was the work of centuries. Were another of the Undead,
like him, to try to do what he has done, perhaps not all the
centuries of the world that have been, or that will be, could
aid him. With this one, all the forces of nature that are occult
and deep and strong must have worked together in some wonderous
way. The very place, where he have been alive, Undead for all
these centuries, is full of strangeness of the geologic and
chemical world. There are deep caverns and fissures that reach
none know whither. There have been volcanoes, some of whose
openings still send out waters of strange properties, and gases
that kill or make to vivify. Doubtless, there is something
magnetic or electric in some of these combinations of occult
forces which work for physical life in strange way, and in
himself were from the first some great qualities. In a hard and
warlike time he was celebrate that he have more iron nerve, more
subtle brain, more braver heart, than any man. In him some vital
principle have in strange way found their utmost. And as his
body keep strong and grow and thrive, so his brain grow too. All
this without that diabolic aid which is surely to him. For it
have to yield to the powers that come from, and are, symbolic of
good. And now this is what he is to us. He have infect you, oh
forgive me, my dear, that I must say such, but it is for good of
you that I speak. He infect you in such wise, that even if he do
no more, you have only to live, to live in your own old, sweet
way, and so in time, death, which is of man's common lot and
with God's sanction, shall make you like to him. This must not
be! We have sworn together that it must not. Thus are we
ministers of God's own wish. That the world, and men for whom
His Son die, will not be given over to monsters, whose very
existence would defame Him. He have allowed us to redeem one
soul already, and we go out as the old knights of the Cross to
redeem more. Like them we shall travel towards the sunrise. And
like them, if we fall, we fall in good cause."
He paused and I said, "But will not the Count take his rebuff
wisely? Since he has been driven from England, will he not avoid
it, as a tiger does the village from which he has been hunted?"
"Aha!" he said, "your simile of the tiger good, for me, and I
shall adopt him. Your maneater, as they of India call the tiger
who has once tasted blood of the human, care no more for the
other prey, but prowl unceasing till he get him. This that we
hunt from our village is a tiger, too, a maneater, and he never
cease to prowl. Nay, in himself he is not one to retire and stay
afar. In his life, his living life, he go over the Turkey
frontier and attack his enemy on his own ground. He be beaten
back, but did he stay? No! He come again, and again, and again.
Look at his persistence and endurance. With the child-brain that
was to him he have long since conceive the idea of coming to a
great city. What does he do? He find out the place of all the
world most of promise for him. Then he deliberately set himself
down to prepare for the task. He find in patience just how is
his strength, and what are his powers. He study new tongues. He
learn new social life, new environment of old ways, the
politics, the law, the finance, the science, the habit of a new
land and a new people who have come to be since he was. His
glimpse that he have had, whet his appetite only and enkeen his
desire. Nay, it help him to grow as to his brain. For it all
prove to him how right he was at the first in his surmises. He
have done this alone, all alone! From a ruin tomb in a forgotten
land. What more may he not do when the greater world of thought
is open to him. He that can smile at death, as we know him. Who
can flourish in the midst of diseases that kill off whole
peoples. Oh! If such an one was to come from God, and not the
Devil, what a force for good might he not be in this old world
of ours. But we are pledged to set the world free. Our toil must
be in silence, and our efforts all in secret. For in this
enlightened age, when men believe not even what they see, the
doubting of wise men would be his greatest strength. It would be
at once his sheath and his armor, and his weapons to destroy us,
his enemies, who are willing to peril even our own souls for the
safety of one we love. For the good of mankind, and for the
honor and glory of God."
After a general discussion it was determined that for tonight
nothing be definitely settled. That we should all sleep on the
facts, and try to think out the proper conclusions. Tomorrow, at
breakfast, we are to meet again, and after making our
conclusions known to one another, we shall decide on some
definite cause of action . . .
I feel a wonderful peace and rest tonight. It is as if some
haunting presence were removed from me. Perhaps . . .
My surmise was not finished, could not be, for I caught sight
in the mirror of the red mark upon my forehead, and I knew that
I was still unclean.
DR. SEWARD'S DIARY
5 October.--We all arose early, and I think that sleep did
much for each and all of us. When we met at early breakfast
there was more general cheerfulness than any of us had ever
expected to experience again.
It is really wonderful how much resilience there is in human
nature. Let any obstructing cause, no matter what, be removed in
any way, even by death, and we fly back to first principles of
hope and enjoyment. More than once as we sat around the table,
my eyes opened in wonder whether the whole of the past days had
not been a dream. It was only when I caught sight of the red
blotch on Mrs. Harker's forehead that I was brought back to
reality. Even now, when I am gravely revolving the matter, it is
almost impossible to realize that the cause of all our trouble
is still existent. Even Mrs. Harker seems to lose sight of her
trouble for whole spells. It is only now and again, when
something recalls it to her mind, that she thinks of her
terrible scar. We are to meet here in my study in half an hour
and decide on our course of action. I see only one immediate
difficulty, I know it by instinct rather than reason. We shall
all have to speak frankly. And yet I fear that in some
mysterious way poor Mrs. Harker's tongue is tied. I know that
she forms conclusions of her own, and from all that has been I
can guess how brilliant and how true they must be. But she will
not, or cannot, give them utterance. I have mentioned this to
Van Helsing, and he and I are to talk it over when we are alone.
I suppose it is some of that horrid poison which has got into
her veins beginning to work. The Count had his own purposes when
he gave her what Van Helsing called "the Vampire's baptism of
blood." Well, there may be a poison that distills itself out of
good things. In an age when the existence of ptomaines is a
mystery we should not wonder at anything! One thing I know, that
if my instinct be true regarding poor Mrs. Harker's silences,
then there is a terrible difficulty, an unknown danger, in the
work before us. The same power that compels her silence may
compel her speech. I dare not think further, for so I should in
my thoughts dishonor a noble woman!
Later.--When the Professor came in, we talked over the state
of things. I could see that he had something on his mind, which
he wanted to say, but felt some hesitancy about broaching the
subject. After beating about the bush a little, he said,"Friend
John, there is something that you and I must talk of alone, just
at the first at any rate. Later, we may have to take the others
into our confidence."
Then he stopped, so I waited. He went on, "Madam Mina, our
poor, dear Madam Mina is changing."
A cold shiver ran through me to find my worst fears thus
endorsed. Van Helsing continued.
"With the sad experience of Miss Lucy, we must this time be
warned before things go too far. Our task is now in reality more
difficult than ever, and this new trouble makes every hour of
the direst importance. I can see the characteristics of the
vampire coming in her face. It is now but very, very slight. But
it is to be seen if we have eyes to notice without prejudge. Her
teeth are sharper, and at times her eyes are more hard. But
these are not all, there is to her the silence now often, as so
it was with Miss Lucy. She did not speak, even when she wrote
that which she wished to be known later. Now my fear is this. If
it be that she can, by our hypnotic trance, tell what the Count
see and hear, is it not more true that he who have hypnotize her
first, and who have drink of her very blood and make her drink
of his, should if he will, compel her mind to disclose to him
that which she know?"
I nodded acquiescence. He went on, "Then, what we must do is
to prevent this. We must keep her ignorant of our intent, and so
she cannot tell what she know not. This is a painful task! Oh,
so painful that it heartbreak me to think of it, but it must be.
When today we meet, I must tell her that for reason which we
will not to speak she must not more be of our council, but be
simply guarded by us."
He wiped his forehead, which had broken out in profuse
perspiration at the thought of the pain which he might have to
inflict upon the poor soul already so tortured. I knew that it
would be some sort of comfort to him if I told him that I also
had come to the same conclusion. For at any rate it would take
away the pain of doubt. I told him, and the effect was as I
expected.
It is now close to the time of our general gathering. Van
Helsing has gone away to prepare for the meeting, and his
painful part of it. I really believe his purpose is to be able
to pray alone.
Later.--At the very outset of our meeting a great personal
relief was experienced by both Van Helsing and myself. Mrs.
Harker had sent a message by her husband to say that she would
not join us at present, as she thought it better that we should
be free to discuss our movements without her presence to
embarrass us. The Professor and I looked at each other for an
instant, and somehow we both seemed relieved. For my own part, I
thought that if Mrs. Harker realized the danger herself, it was
much pain as well as much danger averted. Under the
circumstances we agreed, by a questioning look and answer, with
finger on lip, to preserve silence in our suspicions, until we
should have been able to confer alone again. We went at once
into our Plan of Campaign.
Van Helsing roughly put the facts before us first,"The
Czarina Catherine left the Thames yesterday morning. It will
take her at the quickest speed she has ever made at least three
weeks to reach Varna. But we can travel overland to the same
place in three days. Now, if we allow for two days less for the
ship's voyage, owing to such weather influences as we know that
the Count can bring to bear, and if we allow a whole day and
night for any delays which may occur to us, then we have a
margin of nearly two weeks.
"Thus, in order to be quite safe, we must leave here on 17th
at latest. Then we shall at any rate be in Varna a day before
the ship arrives, and able to make such preparations as may be
necessary. Of course we shall all go armed, armed against evil
things, spiritual as well as physical."
Here Quincey Morris added,"I understand that the Count comes
from a wolf country, and it may be that he shall get there
before us. I propose that we add Winchesters to our armament. I
have a kind of belief in a Winchester when there is any trouble
of that sort around. Do you remember, Art, when we had the pack
after us at Tobolsk?What wouldn't we have given then for a
repeater apiece!"
"Good!" said Van Helsing, "Winchesters it shall be. Quincey's
head is level at times, but most so when there is to hunt,
metaphor be more dishonor to science than wolves be of danger to
man. In the meantime we can do nothing here. And as I think that
Varna is not familiar to any of us, why not go there more soon?
It is as long to wait here as there. Tonight and tomorrow we can
get ready, and then if all be well, we four can set out on our
journey."
"We four?" said Harker interrogatively, looking from one to
another of us.
"Of course!" answered the Professor quickly. "You must remain
to take care of your so sweet wife!"
Harker was silent for awhile and then said in a hollow voice,
"Let us talk of that part of it in the morning. I want to
consult with Mina."
I thought that now was the time for Van Helsing to warn him
not to disclose our plan to her, but he took no notice. I looked
at him significantly and coughed.For answer he put his finger to
his lips and turned away.
JONATHAN HARKER'S JOURNAL
October, afternoon.--For some time after our meeting this
morning I could not think. The new phases of things leave my
mind in a state of wonder which allows no room for active
thought. Mina's determination not to take any part in the
discussion set me thinking. And as I could not argue the matter
with her, I could only guess. I am as far as ever from a
solution now. The way the others received it, too puzzled me.
The last time we talked of the subject we agreed that there was
to be no more concealment of anything amongst us. Mina is
sleeping now, calmly and sweetly like a little child. Her lips
are curved and her face beams with happiness. Thank God, there
are such moments still for her.
Later.--How strange it all is. I sat watching Mina's happy
sleep, and I came as near to being happy myself as I suppose I
shall ever be. As the evening drew on, and the earth took its
shadows from the sun sinking lower, the silence of the room grew
more and more solemn to me.
All at once Mina opened her eyes, and looking at me tenderly
said, "Jonathan, I want you to promise me something on your word
of honor. A promise made to me, but made holily in God's
hearing, and not to be broken though I should go down on my
knees and implore you with bitter tears. Quick, you must make it
to me at once."
"Mina," I said, "a promise like that, I cannot make at once.
I may have no right to make it."
"But, dear one," she said, with such spiritual intensity that
her eyes were like pole stars, "it is I who wish it. And it is
not for myself. You can ask Dr. Van Helsing if I am not right.
If he disagrees you may do as you will. Nay, more if you all
agree, later you are absolved from the promise."
"I promise!"I said, and for a moment she looked supremely
happy. Though to me all happiness for her was denied by the red
scar on her forehead.
She said, "Promise me that you will not tell me anything of
the plans formed for the campaign against the Count. Not by
word, or inference, or implication, not at any time whilst this
remains to me!" And she solemnly pointed to the scar. I saw that
she was in earnest, and said solemnly, "I promise!" and as I
said it I felt that from that instant a door had been shut
between us.
Later, midnight.--Mina has been bright and cheerful all the
evening. So much so that all the rest seemed to take courage, as
if infected somewhat with her gaiety. As a result even I myself
felt as if the pall of gloom which weighs us down were somewhat
lifted. We all retired early. Mina is now sleeping like a little
child. It is wonderful thing that her faculty of sleep remains
to her in the midst of her terrible trouble. Thank God for it,
for then at least she can forget her care. Perhaps her example
may affect me as her gaiety did tonight. I shall try it. Oh! For
a dreamless sleep.
6 October, morning.--Another surprise. Mina woke me early,
about the same time as yesterday, and asked me to bring Dr. Van
Helsing. I thought that it was another occassion for hypnotism,
and without question went for the Professor. He had evidently
expected some such call, for I found him dressed in his room.
His door was ajar, so that he could hear the opening of the door
of our room. He came at once. As he passed into the room, he
asked Mina if the others might come, too.
"No," she said quite simply, "it will not be necessary. You
can tell them just as well. I must go with you on your journey."
Dr. Van Helsing was as startled as I was. After a moment's
pause he asked, "But why?"
"You must take me with you. I am safer with you, and you
shall be safer, too."
"But why, dear Madam Mina? You know that your safety is our
solemnest duty. We go into danger, to which you are, or may be,
more liable than any of us from . . . from circumstances . . .
things that have been." He paused embarrassed.
As she replied, she raised her finger and pointed to her
forehead. "I know. That is why I must go. I can tell you now,
whilst the sun is coming up. I may not be able again. I know
that when the Count wills me I must go. I know that if he tells
me to come in secret, I must by wile. By any device to hoodwink,
even Jonathan." God saw the look that she turned on me as she
spoke, and if there be indeed a Recording Angel that look is
noted to her ever-lasting honor. I could only clasp her hand. I
could not speak. My emotion was too great for even the relief of
tears.
She went on. "You men are brave and strong. You are strong in
your numbers, for you can defy that which would break down the
human endurance of one who had to guard alone. Besides, I may be
of service, since you can hypnotize me and so learn that which
even I myself do not know."
Dr. Van Helsing said gravely, "Madam Mina, you are, as
always, most wise. You shall with us come. And together we shall
do that which we go forth to achieve."
When he had spoken, Mina's long spell of silence made me look
at her. She had fallen back on her pillow asleep. She did not
even wake when I had pulled up the blind and let in the sunlight
which flooded the room. Van Helsing motioned to me to come with
him quietly. We went to his room, and within a minute Lord
Godalming, Dr. Seward, and Mr. Morris were with us also.
He told them what Mina had said, and went on. "In the morning
we shall leave for Varna. We have now to deal with a new factor,
Madam Mina. Oh, but her soul is true. It is to her an agony to
tell us so much as she has done. But it is most right, and we
are warned in time. There must be no chance lost, and in Varna
we must be ready to act the instant when that ship arrives."
"What shall we do exactly?"asked Mr. Morris laconically.
The Professor paused before replying, "We shall at the first
board that ship. Then, when we have identified the box, we shall
place a branch of the wild rose on it. This we shall fasten, for
when it is there none can emerge, so that at least says the
superstition. And to superstition must we trust at the first. It
was man's faith in the early, and it have its root in faith
still. Then, when we get the opportunity that we seek, when none
are near to see, we shall open the box, and . . . and all will
be well."
"I shall not wait for any opportunity," said Morris. "When I
see the box I shall open it and destroy the monster, though
there were a thousand men looking on, and if I am to be wiped
out for it the next moment!" I grasped his hand instinctively
and found it as firm as a piece of steel. I think he understood
my look. I hope he did.
"Good boy," said Dr. Van Helsing. "Brave boy. Quincey is all
man. God bless him for it. My child, believe me none of us shall
lag behind or pause from any fear. I do but say what we may do .
. . what we must do. But, indeed, indeed we cannot say what we
may do. There are so many things which may happen, and their
ways and their ends are so various that until the moment we may
not say. We shall all be armed, in all ways. And when the time
for the end has come, our effort shall not be lack. Now let us
today put all our affairs in order. Let all things which touch
on others dear to us, and who on us depend, be complete. For
none of us can tell what, or when, or how, the end may be. As
for me, my own affairs are regulate, and as I have nothing else
to do, I shall go make arrangements for the travel. I shall have
all tickets and so forth for our journey."
There was nothing further to be said, and we parted. I shall
now settle up all my affairs of earth, and be ready for whatever
may come.
Later.--It is done. My will is made, and all complete. Mina
if she survive is my sole heir. If it should not be so, then the
others who have been so good to us shall have remainder.
It is now drawing towards the sunset. Mina's uneasiness calls
my attention to it. I am sure that there is something on her
mind which the time of exact sunset will reveal. These occasions
are becoming harrowing times for us all. For each sunrise and
sunset opens up some new danger, some new pain, which however,
may in God's will be means to a good end. I write all these
things in the diary since my darling must not hear them now. But
if it may be that she can see them again, they shall be ready.
She is calling to me.
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Chapter 25
DR SEWARD'S DIARY
11 October, Evening.--Jonathan Harker has asked me to note
this, as he says he is hardly equal to the task, and he wants an
exact record kept.
I think that none of us were surprised when we were asked to
see Mrs. Harker a little before the time of sunset. We have of
late come to understand that sunrise and sunset are to her times
of peculiar freedom. When her old self can be manifest without
any controlling force subduing or restraining her, or inciting
her to action. This mood or condition begins some half hour or
more before actual sunrise or sunset, and lasts till either the
sun is high, or whilst the clouds are still aglow with the rays
streaming above the horizon. At first there is a sort of
negative condition, as if some tie were loosened, and then the
absolute freedom quickly follows. When, however, the freedom
ceases the change back or relapse comes quickly, preceeded only
by a spell of warning silence.
Tonight, when we met, she was somewhat constrained, and bore
all the signs of an internal struggle. I put it down myself to
her making a violent effort at the earliest instant she could do
so.
A very few minutes, however, gave her complete control of
herself. Then, motioning her husband to sit beside her on the
sofa where she was half reclining, she made the rest of us bring
chairs up close.
Taking her husband's hand in hers, she began, "We are all
here together in freedom, for perhaps the last time! I know that
you will always be with me to the end." This was to her husband
whose hand had, as we could see, tightened upon her. "In the
morning we go out upon our task, and God alone knows what may be
in store for any of us. You are going to be so good to me to
take me with you. I know that all that brave earnest men can do
for a poor weak woman, whose soul perhaps is lost, no, no, not
yet, but is at any rate at stake, you will do. But you must
remember that I am not as you are. There is a poison in my
blood, in my soul, which may destroy me, which must destroy me,
unless some relief comes to us. Oh, my friends, you know as well
as I do, that my soul is at stake. And though I know there is
one way out for me, you must not and I must not take it!" She
looked appealingly to us all in turn, beginning and ending with
her husband.
"What is that way?" asked Van Helsing in a hoarse voice.
"What is that way, which we must not, may not, take?"
"That I may die now, either by my own hand or that of
another, before the greater evil is entirely wrought. I know,
and you know, that were I once dead you could and would set free
my immortal spirit, even as you did my poor Lucy's. Were death,
or the fear of death, the only thing that stood in the way I
would not shrink to die here now, amidst the friends who love
me. But death is not all. I cannot believe that to die in such a
case, when there is hope before us and a bitter task to be done,
is God's will. Therefore, I on my part, give up here the
certainty of eternal rest, and go out into the dark where may be
the blackest things that the world or the nether world holds!"
We were all silent, for we knew instinctively that this was
only a prelude. The faces of the others were set, and Harker's
grew ashen grey. Perhaps, he guessed better than any of us what
was coming.
She continued, "This is what I can give into the hotchpot." I
could not but note the quaint legal phrase which she used in
such a place, and with all seriousness. "What will each of you
give? Your lives I know," she went on quickly, "that is easy for
brave men. Your lives are God's, and you can give them back to
Him, but what will you give to me?" She looked again questionly,
but this time avoided her husband's face. Quincey seemed to
understand, he nodded, and her face lit up. "Then I shall tell
you plainly what I want, for there must be no doubtful matter in
this connection between us now. You must promise me, one and
all, even you, my beloved husband, that should the time come,
you will kill me."
"What is that time?" The voice was Quincey's, but it was low
and strained.
"When you shall be convinced that I am so changed that it is
better that I die that I may live. When I am thus dead in the
flesh, then you will, without a moment's delay, drive a stake
through me and cut off my head, or do whatever else may be
wanting to give me rest!"
Quincey was the first to rise after the pause. He knelt down
before her and taking her hand in his said solemnly, "I'm only a
rough fellow, who hasn't, perhaps, lived as a man should to win
such a distinction, but I swear to you by all that I hold sacred
and dear that, should the time ever come, I shall not flinch
from the duty that you have set us. And I promise you, too, that
I shall make all certain, for if I am only doubtful I shall take
it that the time has come!"
"My true friend!" was all she could say amid her fastfalling
tears, as bending over, she kissed his hand.
"I swear the same, my dear Madam Mina!"said Van Helsing. "And
I!" said Lord Godalming, each of them in turn kneeling to her to
take the oath. I followed, myself.
Then her husband turned to her wan-eyed and with a greenish
pallor which subdued the snowy whiteness of his hair, and asked,
"And must I, too, make such a promise, oh, my wife?"
"You too, my dearest,"she said, with infinite yearning of
pity in her voice and eyes. "You must not shrink. You are
nearest and dearest and all the world to me. Our souls are knit
into one, for all life and all time. Think, dear, that there
have been times when brave men have killed their wives and their
womenkind, to keep them from falling into the hands of the
enemy. Their hands did not falter any the more because those
that they loved implored them to slay them. It is men's duty
towards those whom they love, in such times of sore trial! And
oh, my dear, if it is to be that I must meet death at any hand,
let it be at the hand of him that loves me best. Dr. Van
Helsing, I have not forgotten your mercy in poor Lucy's case to
him who loved." She stopped with a flying blush, and changed her
phrase, "to him who had best right to give her peace. If that
time shall come again, I look to you to make it a happy memory
of my husband's life that it was his loving hand which set me
free from the awful thrall upon me."
"Again I swear!" came the Professor's resonant voice.
Mrs. Harker smiled, positively smiled, as with a sigh of
relief she leaned back and said, "And now one word of warning, a
warning which you must never forget. This time, if it ever come,
may come quickly and unexpectedly, and in such case you must
lose no time in using your opportunity. At such a time I myself
might be . . . nay! If the time ever come, shall be, leagued
with your enemy against you.
"One more request," she became very solemn as she said this,
"it is not vital and necessary like the other, but I want you to
do one thing for me, if you will."
We all acquiesced, but no one spoke. There was no need to
speak.
"I want you to read the Burial Service." She was interrupted
by a deep groan from her husband. Taking his hand in hers, she
held it over her heart, and continued. "You must read it over me
some day. Whatever may be the issue of all this fearful state of
things, it will be a sweet thought to all or some of us. You, my
dearest, will I hope read it, for then it will be in your voice
in my memory forever, come what may!"
"But oh, my dear one," he pleaded, "death is afar off from
you."
"Nay," she said, holding up a warning hand. "I am deeper in
death at this moment than if the weight of an earthly grave lay
heavy upon me!"
"Oh, my wife, must I read it?"he said, before he began.
"It would comfort me, my husband!" was all she said, and he
began to read when she had got the book ready.
How can I, how could anyone, tell of that strange scene, its
solemnity, its gloom,its sadness, its horror, and withal, its
sweetness. Even a sceptic, who can see nothing but a travesty of
bitter truth in anything holy or emotional, would have been
melted to the heart had he seen that little group of loving and
devoted friends kneeling round that stricken and sorrowing lady.
Or heard the tender passion of her husband's voice, as in tones
so broken and emotional that often he had to pause, he read the
simple and beautiful service from the Burial of the Dead. I
cannot go on . . . words . . . and v-voices . . . f-fail m-me!
She was right in her instinct. Strange as it was, bizarre as
it may hereafter seem even to us who felt its potent influence
at the time, it comforted us much. And the silence, which showed
Mrs. Harker's coming relapse from her freedom of soul, did not
seem so full of despair to any of us as we had dreaded.
JONATHAN HARKER'S JOURNAL
15 October, Varna.--We left Charing Cross on the morning of
the 12th, got to Paris the same night, and took the places
secured for us in the Orient Express. We traveled night and day,
arriving here at about five o'clock. Lord Godalming went to the
Consulate to see if any telegram had arrived for him, whilst the
rest of us came on to this hotel, "the Odessus." The journey may
have had incidents. I was, however, too eager to get on, to care
for them. Until the Czarina Catherine comes into port there will
be no interest for me in anything in the wide world. Thank God!
Mina is well, and looks to be getting stronger. Her color is
coming back. She sleeps a great deal. Throughout the journey she
slept nearly all the time. Before sunrise and sunset, however,
she is very wakeful and alert. And it has become a habit for Van
Helsing to hypnotize her at such times. At first, some effort
was needed, and he had to make many passes. But now, she seems
to yield at once, as if by habit, and scarcely any action is
needed. He seems to have power at these particular moments to
simply will, and her thoughts obey him. He always asks her what
she can see and hear.
She answers to the first, "Nothing, all is dark."
And to the second,"I can hear the waves lapping against the
ship, and the water rushing by. Canvas and cordage strain and
masts and yards creak. The wind is high . . . I can hear it in
the shrouds, and the bow throws back the foam."
It is evident that the Czarina Catherine is still at sea,
hastening on her way to Varna. Lord Godalming has just returned.
He had four telegrams, one each day since we started, and all to
the same effect. That the Czarina Catherine had not been
reported to Lloyd's from anywhere. He had arranged before
leaving London that his agent should send him every day a
telegram saying if the ship had been reported. He was to have a
message even if she were not reported, so that he might be sure
that there was a watch being kept at the other end of the wire.
We had dinner and went to bed early. Tomorrow we are to see
the Vice Consul, and to arrange, if we can, about getting on
board the ship as soon as she arrives. Van Helsing says that our
chance will be to get on the boat between sunrise and sunset.
The Count, even if he takes the form of a bat, cannot cross the
running water of his own volition, and so cannot leave the ship.
As he dare not change to man's form without suspicion, which he
evidently wishes to avoid, he must remain in the box. If, then,
we can come on board after sunrise, he is at our mercy, for we
can open the box and make sure of him, as we did of poor Lucy,
before he wakes. What mercy he shall get from us all will not
count for much. We think that we shall not have much trouble
with officials or the seamen. Thank God! This is the country
where bribery can do anything, and we are well supplied with
money. We have only to make sure that the ship cannot come into
port between sunset and sunrise without our being warned, and we
shall be safe. Judge Moneybag will settle this case, I think!
16 October.--Mina's report still the same. Lapping waves and
rushing water, darkness and favoring winds. We are evidently in
good time, and when we hear of the Czarina Catherine we shall be
ready. As she must pass the Dardanelles we are sure to have some
report.
17 October.--Everything is pretty well fixed now, I think, to
welcome the Count on his return from his tour. Godalming told
the shippers that he fancied that the box sent aboard might
contain something stolen from a friend of his, and got a half
consent that he might open it at his own risk. The owner gave
him a paper telling the Captain to give him every facility in
doing whatever he chose on board the ship, and also a similar
authorization to his agent at Varna. We have seen the agent, who
was much impressed with Godalming's kindly manner to him, and we
are all satisfied that whatever he can do to aid our wishes will
be done.
We have already arranged what to do in case we get the box
open. If the Count is there, Van Helsing and Seward will cut off
his head at once and drive a stake through his heart. Morris and
Godalming and I shall prevent interference, even if we have to
use the arms which we shall have ready. The Professor says that
if we can so treat the Count's body, it will soon after fall
into dust. In such case there would be no evidence against us,
in case any suspicion of murder were aroused. But even if it
were not, we should stand or fall by our act, and perhaps some
day this very script may be evidence to come between some of us
and a rope. For myself, I should take the chance only too
thankfully if it were to come. We mean to leave no stone
unturned to carry out our intent. We have arranged with certain
officials that the instant the Czarina Catherine is seen, we are
to be informed by a special messenger.
24 October.--A whole week of waiting. Daily telegrams to
Godalming, but only the same story. "Not yet reported." Mina's
morning and evening hypnotic answer is unvaried. Lapping waves,
rushing water, and creaking masts.
TELEGRAM, OCTOBER 24TH RUFUS SMITH, LLOYD'S, LONDON, TO LORD
GODALMING, CARE OF
H. B. M. VICE CONSUL, VARNA
"Czarina Catherine reported this morning from Dardanelles."
DR. SEWARD'S DIARY
25 October.--How I miss my phonograph! To write a diary with
a pen is irksome to me! But Van Helsing says I must. We were all
wild with excitement yesterday when Godalming got his telegram
from Lloyd's. I know now what men feel in battle when the call
to action is heard. Mrs.Harker, alone of our party, did not show
any signs of emotion. After all, it is not strange that she did
not, for we took special care not to let her know anything about
it, and we all tried not to show any excitement when we were in
her presence. In old days she would, I am sure, have noticed, no
matter how we might have tried to conceal it. But in this way
she is greatly changed during the past three weeks. The lethargy
grows upon her, and though she seems strong and well, and is
getting back some of her color, Van Helsing and I are not
satisfied. We talk of her often. We have not, however, said a
word to the others. It would break poor Harker's heart,
certainly his nerve, if he knew that we had even a suspicion on
the subject. Van Helsing examines, he tells me, her teeth very
carefully, whilst she is in the hypnotic condition, for he says
that so long as they do not begin to sharpen there is no active
danger of a change in her. If this change should come, it would
be necessary to take steps! We both know what those steps would
have to be, though we do not mention our thoughts to each other.
We should neither of us shrink from the task, awful though it be
to contemplate. "Euthanasia" is an excellent and a comforting
word! I am grateful to whoever invented it.
It is only about 24 hours' sail from the Dardanelles to here,
at the rate the Czarina Catherine has come from London. She
should therefore arrive some time in the morning, but as she
cannot possibly get in before noon, we are all about to retire
early. We shall get up at one o'clock, so as to be ready.
25 October, Noon.--No news yet of the ship's arrival. Mrs.
Harker's hypnotic report this morning was the same as usual, so
it is possible that we may get news at any moment. We men are
all in a fever of excitement, except Harker, who is calm. His
hands are cold as ice, and an hour ago I found him whetting the
edge of the great Ghoorka knife which he now always carries with
him. It will be a bad lookout for the Count if the edge of that
"Kukri" ever touches his throat, driven by that stern, ice-cold
hand!
Van Helsing and I were a little alarmed about Mrs. Harker
today. About noon she got into a sort of lethargy which we did
not like. Although we kept silence to the others, we were
neither of us happy about it. She had been restless all the
morning, so that we were at first glad to know that she was
sleeping. When, however, her husband mentioned casually that she
was sleeping so soundly that he could not wake her, we went to
her room to see for ourselves. She was breathing naturally and
looked so well and peaceful that we agreed that the sleep was
better for her than anything else. Poor girl, she has so much to
forget that it is no wonder that sleep, if it brings oblivion to
her, does her good.
Later.--Our opinion was justified, for when after a
refreshing sleep of some hours she woke up, she seemed brighter
and better than she had been for days. At sunset she made the
usual hypnotic report. Wherever he may be in the Black Sea, the
Count is hurrying to his destination. To his doom, I trust!
26 October.--Another day and no tidings of the Czarina
Catherine. She ought to be here by now. That she is still
journeying somewhere is apparent, for Mrs. Harker's hypnotic
report at sunrise was still the same. It is possible that the
vessel may be lying by, at times, for fog. Some of the steamers
which came in last evening reported patches of fog both to north
and south of the port. We must continue our watching, as the
ship may now be signalled any moment.
27 October, Noon.--Most strange. No news yet of the ship we
wait for. Mrs. Harker reported last night and this morning as
usual. "Lapping waves and rushing water," though she added that
"the waves were very faint." The telegrams from London have been
the same, "no further report." Van Helsing is terribly anxious,
and told me just now that he fears the Count is escaping us.
He added significantly, "I did not like that lethargy of
Madam Mina's. Souls and memories can do strange things during
trance." I was about to as k him more, but Harker just then came
in, and he held up a warning hand. We must try tonight at sunset
to make her speak more fully when in her hypnotic state.
28 October.--Telegram. Rufus Smith, London, to Lord
Godalming, care H. B. M. Vice Consul, Varna "Czarina Catherine
reported entering Galatz at one o'clock today."
DR. SEWARD'S DIARY
28 October.--When the telegram came announcing the arrival in
Galatz I do not think it was such a shock to any of us as might
have been expected. True, we did not know whence, or how, or
when, the bolt would come. But I think we all expected that
something strange would happen. The day of arrival at Varna made
us individually satisfied that things would not be just as we
had expected. We only waited to learn where the change would
occur. None the less, however, it was a surprise. I suppose that
nature works on such a hopeful basis that we believe against
ourselves that things will be as they ought to be, not as we
should know that they will be. Transcendentalism is a beacon to
the angels, even if it be a will-o'-the-wisp to man. Van Helsing
raised his hand over his head for a moment, as though in
remonstrance with the Almighty. But he said not a word, and in a
few seconds stood up with his face sternly set.
Lord Godalming grew very pale, and sat breathing heavily. I
was myself half stunned and looked in wonder at one after
another. Quincey Morris tightened his belt with that quick
movement which I knew so well. In our old wandering days it
meant "action." Mrs. Harker grew ghastly white, so that the scar
on her forehead seemed to burn, but she folded her hands meekly
and looked up in prayer. Harker smiled, actually smiled, the
dark, bitter smile of one who is without hope, but at the same
time his action belied his words, for his hands instinctively
sought the hilt of the great Kukri knife and rested there.
"When does the next train start for Galatz?" said Van Helsing
to us generally.
"At 6:30 tomorrow morning!" We all started, for the answer
came from Mrs. Harker.
"How on earth do you know?" said Art.
"You forget, or perhaps you do not know, though Jonathan does
and so does Dr. Van Helsing, that I am the train fiend. At home
in Exeter I always used to make up the time tables, so as to be
helpful to my husband. I found it so useful sometimes, that I
always make a study of the time tables now. I knew that if
anything were to take us to Castle Dracula we should go by
Galatz, or at any rate through Bucharest, so I learned the times
very carefully. Unhappily there are not many to learn, as the
only train tomorrow leaves as I say."
"Wonderful woman!" murmured the Professor.
"Can't we get a special?" asked Lord Godalming.
Van Helsing shook his head, "I fear not. This land is very
different from yours or mine. Even if we did have a special, it
would probably not arrive as soon as our regular train.
Moreover, we have something to prepare. We must think. Now let
us organize. You, friend Arthur, go to the train and get the
tickets and arrange that all be ready for us to go in the
morning. Do you, friend Jonathan, go to the agent of the ship
and get from him letters to the agent in Galatz, with authority
to make a search of the ship just as it was here. Quincey
Morris, you see the Vice Consul, and get his aid with his fellow
in Galatz and all he can do to make our way smooth, so that no
times be lost when over the Danube. John will stay with Madam
Mina and me, and we shall consult. For so if time be long you
may be delayed. And it will not matter when the sun set, since I
am here with Madam to make report."
"And I," said Mrs. Harker brightly, and more like her old
self than she had been for many a long day, "shall try to be of
use in all ways, and shall think and write for you as I used to
do. Something is shifting from me in some strange way, and I
feel freer than I have been of late!"
The three younger men looked happier at the moment as they
seemed to realize the significance of her words. But Van Helsing
and I, turning to each other, met each a grave and troubled
glance. We said nothing at the time, however.
When the three men had gone out to their tasks Van Helsing
asked Mrs. Harker to look up the copy of the diaries and find
him the part of Harker's journal at the Castle. She went away to
get it.
When the door was shut upon her he said to me, "We mean the
same! Speak out!"
"Here is some change. It is a hope that makes me sick, for it
may deceive us."
"Quite so. Do you know why I asked her to get the
manuscript?"
"No!" said I, "unless it was to get an opportunity of seeing
me alone."
"You are in part right, friend John, but only in part. I want
to tell you something. And oh, my friend, I am taking a great, a
terrible, risk. But I believe it is right. In the moment when
Madam Mina said those words that arrest both our understanding,
an inspiration came to me. In the trance of three days ago the
Count sent her his spirit to read her mind. Or more like he took
her to see him in his earth box in the ship with water rushing,
just as it go free at rise and set of sun. He learn then that we
are here, for she have more to tell in her open life with eyes
to see ears to hear than he, shut as he is, in his coffin box.
Now he make his most effort to escape us. At present he want her
not.
"He is sure with his so great knowledge that she will come at
his call. But he cut her off, take her, as he can do, out of his
own power, that so she come not to him. Ah! There I have hope
that our man brains that have been of man so long and that have
not lost the grace of God, will come higher than his child-brain
that lie in his tomb for centuries, that grow not yet to our
stature, and that do only work selfish and therefore small. Here
comes Madam Mina. Not a word to her of her trance! She knows it
not, and it would overwhelm her and make despair just when we
want all her hope, all her courage, when most we want all her
great brain which is trained like man's brain, but is of sweet
woman and have a special power which the Count give her, and
which he may not take away altogether, though he think not so.
Hush! Let me speak, and you shall learn. Oh, John, my friend, we
are in awful straits. I fear, as I never feared before. We can
only trust the good God. Silence! Here she comes!"
I thought that the Professor was going to break down and have
hysterics, just as he had when Lucy died, but with a great
effort he controlled himself and was at perfect nervous poise
when Mrs. Harker tripped into the room, bright and happy looking
and, in the doing of work, seemingly forgetful of her misery. As
she came in, she handed a number of sheets of typewriting to Van
Helsing. He looked over them gravely, his face brightening up as
he read.
Then holding the pages between his finger and thumb he said,
"Friend John, to you with so much experience already, and you
too, dear Madam Mina, that are young, here is a lesson. Do not
fear ever to think. A half thought has been buzzing often in my
brain, but I fear to let him loose his wings. Here now, with
more knowledge, I go back to where that half thought come from
and I find that he be no half thought at all. That be a whole
thought, though so young that he is not yet strong to use his
little wings. Nay, like the `Ugly Duck' of my friend Hans
Andersen, he be no duck thought at all, but a big swan thought
that sail nobly on big wings, when the time come for him to try
them. See I read here what Jonathan have written.
"That other of his race who, in a later age, again and again,
brought his forces over The Great River into Turkey Land, who
when he was beaten back, came again, and again, and again,
though he had to come alone from the bloody field where his
troops were being slaughtered, since he knew that he alone could
ultimately triumph.
"What does this tell us? Not much? No! The Count's child
thought see nothing, therefore he speak so free. Your man
thought see nothing. My man thought see nothing, till just now.
No! But there comes another word from some one who speak without
thought because she, too, know not what it mean, what it might
mean. Just as there are elements which rest, yet when in
nature's course they move on their way and they touch, the pouf!
And there comes a flash of light, heaven wide, that blind and
kill and destroy some. But that show up all earth below for
leagues and leagues. Is it not so? Well, I shall explain. To
begin, hav e you ever study the philosophy of crime? `Yes' and
`No.' You, John, yes, for it is a study of insanity. You, no,
Madam Mina, for crime touch you not, not but once. Still, your
mind works true, and argues not a particulari ad universale.
There is this peculiarity in criminals. It is so constant, in
all countries and at all times, that even police, who know not
much from philosophy, come to know it empirically, that it is.
That is to be empiric. The criminal always work at one crime,
that is the true criminal who seems predestinate to crime, and
who will of none other. This criminal has not full man brain. He
is clever and cunning and resourceful, but he be not of man
stature as to brain. He be of child brain in much. Now this
criminal of ours is pre-destinate to crime also. He, too, have
child brain, and it is of the child to do what he have done. The
little bird, the little fish, the little animal learn not by
principle, but empirically. And when he learn to do, then there
is to him the ground to start from to do more. `Dos pou sto,'
said Archimedes. `Give me a fulcrum, and I shall move the
world!' To do once, is the fulcrum whereby child brain become
man brain. And until he have the purpose to do more, he continue
to do the same again every time, just as he have done before!
Oh, my dear, I see that your eyes are opened, and that to you
the lightning flash show all the leagues,"for Mrs. Harker began
to clap her hands and her eyes sparkled.
He went on, "Now you shall speak. Tell us two dry men of
science what you see with those so bright eyes." He took her
hand and held it whilst he spoke. His finger and thumb closed on
her pulse, as I thought instinctively and unconsciously, as she
spoke.
"The Count is a criminal and of criminal type. Nordau and
Lombroso would so classify him, and qua criminal he is of an
imperfectly formed mind. Thus, in a difficulty he has to seek
resource in habit. His past is a clue, and the one page of it
that we know, and that from his own lips, tells that once
before, when in what Mr. Morris would call a`tight place,' he
went back to his own country from the land he had tried to
invade, and thence, without losing purpose, prepared himself for
a new effort. He came again better equipped for his work, and
won. So he came to London to invade a new land. He was beaten,
and when all hope of success was lost, and his existence in
danger, he fled back over the sea to his home. Just as formerly
he had fled back over the Danube from Turkey Land."
"Good, good! Oh, you so clever lady!" said Van Helsing,
enthusiastically, as he stooped and kissed her hand. A moment
later he said to me, as calmly as though we had been having a
sick room consultation, "Seventy-two only, and in all this
excitement. I have hope."
Turning to her again, he said with keen expectation, "But go
on. Go on! There is more to tell if you will. Be not afraid.
John and I know. I do in any case, and shall tell you if you are
right. Speak, without fear!"
"I will try to. But you will forgive me if I seem too
egotistical."
"Nay! Fear not, you must be egotist, for it is of you that we
think."
"Then, as he is criminal he is selfish. And as his intellect
is small and his action is based on selfishness, he confines
himself to one purpose. That purpose is remorseless. As he fled
back over the Danube, leaving his forces to be cut to pieces, so
now he is intent on being safe, careless of all. So his own
selfishness frees my soul somewhat from the terrible power which
he acquired over me on that dreadful night. I felt it! Oh, I
felt it! Thank God, for His great mercy! My soul is freer than
it has been since that awful hour. And all that haunts me is a
fear lest in some trance or dream he may have used my knowledge
for his ends."
The Professor stood up, "He has so used your mind, and by it
he has left us here in Varna, whilst the ship that carried him
rushed through enveloping fog up to Galatz, where, doubtless, he
had made preparation for escaping from us. But his child mind
only saw so far. And it may be that as ever is in God's
Providence, the very thing that the evil doer most reckoned on
for his selfish good, turns out to be his chiefest harm. The
hunter is taken in his own snare, as the great Psalmist says.
For now that he think he is free from every trace of us all, and
that he has escaped us with so many hours to him, then his
selfish child brain will whisper him to sleep. He think, too,
that as he cut himself off from knowing your mind, there can be
no knowledge of him to you. There is where he fail! That
terrible baptism of blood which he give you makes you free to go
to him in spirit, as you have as yet done in your times of
freedom, when the sun rise and set. At such times you go by my
volition and not by his. And this power to good of you and
others, you have won from your suffering at his hands. This is
now all more precious that he know it not, and to guard himself
have even cut himself off from his knowledge of our where. We,
however, are not selfish, and we believe that God is with us
through all this blackness, and these many dark hours. We shall
follow him, and we shall not flinch. Even if we peril ourselves
that we become like him. Friend John, this has been a great
hour, and it have done much to advance us on our way. You must
be scribe and write him all down, so that when the others return
from their work you can give it to them, then they shall know as
we do."
And so I have written it whilst we wait their return, and
Mrs. Harker has written with the typewriter all since she
brought the MS to us.
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Chapter 26
DR. SEWARD'S DIARY
29 October.--This is written in the train from Varna to
Galatz. Last night we all assembled a little before the time of
sunset. Each of us had done his work as well as he could, so far
as thought, and endeavor, and opportunity go, we are prepared
for the whole of our journey, and for our work when we get to
Galatz. When the usual time came round Mrs. Harker prepared
herself for her hypnotic effort, and after a longer and more
serious effort on the part of Van Helsing than has been usually
necessary, she sank into the trance. Usually she speaks on a
hint, but this time the Professor had to ask her questions, and
to ask them pretty resolutely, before we could learn anything.
At last her answer came.
"I can see nothing. We are still. There are no waves lapping,
but only a steady swirl of water softly running against the
hawser. I can hear men's voices calling, near and far, and the
roll and creak of oars in the rowlocks. A gun is fired
somewhere, the echo of it seems far away. There is tramping of
feet overhead, and ropes and chains are dragged along. What is
this? There is a gleam of light. I can feel the air blowing upon
me."
Here she stopped. She had risen, as if impulsively, from
where she lay on the sofa, and raised both her hands, palms
upwards, as if lifting a weight. Van Helsing and I looked at
each other with understanding. Quincey raised his eyebrows
slightly and looked at her intently, whilst Harker's hand
instinctively closed round the hilt of his Kukri. There was a
long pause. We all knew that the time when she could speak was
passing, but we felt that it was useless to say anything.
Suddenly she sat up, and as she opened her eyes said sweetly,
"Would none of you like a cup of tea? You must all be so tired!"
We could only make her happy, and so acqueisced. She bustled
off to get tea. When she had gone Van Helsing said, "You see, my
friends. He is close to land. He has left his earth chest. But
he has yet to get on shore. In the night he may lie hidden
somewhere, but if he be not carried on shore, or if the ship do
not touch it, he cannot achieve the land. In such case he can,
if it be in the night, change his form and jump or fly on shore,
then, unless he be carried he cannot escape. And if he be
carried, then the customs men may discover what the box contain.
Thus, in fine, if he escape not on shore tonight, or before
dawn, there will be the whole day lost to him. We may then
arrive in time. For if he escape not at night we shall come on
him in daytime, boxed up and at our mercy. For he dare not be
his true self, awake and visible, lest he be discovered."
There was no more to be said, so we waited in patience until
the dawn, at which time we might learn more from Mrs. Harker.
Early this morning we listened, with breathless anxiety, for
her response in her trance. The hypnotic stage was even longer
in coming than before, and when it came the time remaining until
full sunrise was so short that we began to despair. Van Helsing
seemed to throw his whole soul into the effort. At last, in
obedience to his will she made reply.
"All is dark. I hear lapping water, level with me, and some
creaking as of wood on wood." She paused, and the red sun shot
up. We must wait till tonight.
And so it is that we are travelling towards Galatz in an
agony of expectation. We are due to arrive between two and three
in the morning. But already, at Bucharest, we are three hours
late, so we cannot possibly get in till well after sunup. Thus
we shall have two more hypnotic messages from Mrs. Harker!
Either or both may possibly throw more light on what is
happening.
Later.--Sunset has come and gone. Fortunately it came at a
time when there was no distraction. For had it occurred whilst
we were at a station, we might not have secured the necessary
calm and isolation. Mrs. Harker yielded to the hypnotic
influence even less readily than this morning. I am in fear that
her power of reading the Count's sensations may die away, just
when we want it most. It seems to me that her imagination is
beginning to work. Whilst she has been in the trance hitherto
she has confined herself to the simplest of facts. If this goes
on it may ultimately mislead us. If I thought that the Count's
power over her would die away equally with her power of
knowledge it would be a happy thought. But I am afraid that it
may not be so.
When she did speak, her words were enigmatical,"Something is
going out. I can feel it pass me like a cold wind. I can hear,
far off, confused sounds, as of men talking in strange tongues,
fierce falling water, and the howling of wolves." She stopped
and a shudder ran through her, increasing in intensity for a few
seconds, till at the end, she shook as though in a palsy. She
said no more, even in answer to the Professor's imperative
questioning. When she woke from the trance, she was cold, and
exhausted, and languid, but her mind was all alert. She could
not remember anything, but asked what she had said. When she was
told, she pondered over it deeply for a long time and in
silence.
30 October, 7 a. m.--We are near Galatz now, and I may not
have time to write later. Sunrise this morning was anxiously
looked for by us all. Knowing of the increasing difficulty of
procuring the hypnotic trance, Van Helsing began his passes
earlier than usual. They produced no effect, however, until the
regular time, when she yielded with a still greater difficulty,
only a minute before the sun rose. The Professor lost no time in
his questioning.
Her answer came with equal quickness, "All is dark. I hear
water swirling by, level with my ears, and the creaking of wood
on wood. Cattle low far off. There is another sound, a queer one
like . . ." She stopped and grew white, and whiter still.
"Go on, go on! Speak, I command you!" said Van Helsing in an
agonized voice. At the same time there was despair in his eyes,
for the risen sun was reddening even Mrs. Harker's pale face.
She opened her eyes, and we all started as she said, sweetly and
seemingly with the utmost unconcern.
"Oh, Professor, why ask me to do what you know I can't? I
don't remember anything." Then, seeing the look of amazement on
our faces, she said, turning from one to the other with a
troubled look, "What have I said? What have I done? I know
nothing, only that I was lying here, half asleep, and heard you
say `go on! speak, I command you!' It seemed so funny to hear
you order me about, as if I were a bad child!"
"Oh, Madam Mina," he said, sadly, "it is proof, if proof be
needed, of how I love and honor you, when a word for your good,
spoken more earnest than ever, can seem so strange because it is
to order her whom I am proud to obey!"
The whistles are sounding. We are nearing Galatz. We are on
fire with anxiety and eagerness.
MINA HARKER'S JOURNAL
30 October.--Mr. Morris took me to the hotel where our rooms
had been ordered by telegraph, he being the one who could best
be spared, since he does not speak any foreign language. The
forces were distributed much as they had been at Varna, except
that Lord Godalming went to the Vice Consul, as his rank might
serve as an immediate guarantee of some sort to the official, we
being in extreme hurry. Jonathan and the two doctors went to the
shipping agent to learn particulars of the arrival of the
Czarina Catherine.
Later.--Lord Godalming has returned. The Consul is away, and
the Vice Consul sick. So the routine work has been attended to
by a clerk. He was very obliging, and offered to do anything in
his power.
JONATHAN HARKER'S JOURNAL
30 October.--At nine o'clock Dr. Van Helsing, Dr. Seward, and
I called on Messrs. Mackenzie & Steinkoff, the agents of the
London firm of Hapgood. They had received a wire from London, in
answer to Lord Godalming's telegraphed request, asking them to
show us any civility in their power. They were more than kind
and courteous, and took us at once on board the Czarina
Catherine, which lay at anchor out in the river harbor. There we
saw the Captain, Donelson by name, who told us of his voyage. He
said that in all his life he had never had so favorable a run.
"Man!" he said, "but it made us afeard, for we expect it that
we should have to pay for it wi' some rare piece o' ill luck, so
as to keep up the average. It's no canny to run frae London to
the Black Sea wi' a wind ahint ye, as though the Deil himself
were blawin' on yer sail for his ain purpose. An' a' the time we
could no speer a thing. Gin we were nigh a ship, or a port, or a
headland, a fog fell on us and travelled wi' us, till when after
it had lifted and we looked out, the deil a thing could we see.
We ran by Gibraltar wi' oot bein' able to signal. An' til we
came to the Dardanelles and had to wait to get our permit to
pass, we never were within hail o' aught. At first I inclined to
slack off sail and beat about till the fog was lifted. But
whiles, I thocht that if the Deil was minded to get us into the
Black Sea quick, he was like to do it whether we would or no. If
we had a quick voyage it would be no to our miscredit wi'the
owners, or no hurt to our traffic, an' the Old Mon who had
served his ain purpose wad be decently grateful to us for no
hinderin' him."
This mixture of simplicity and cunning, of superstition and
commercial reasoning, aroused Van Helsing, who said,"Mine
friend, that Devil is more clever than he is thought by some,
and he know when he meet his match!"
The skipper was not displeased with the compliment, and went
on, "When we got past the Bosphorus the men began to grumble.
Some o' them, the Roumanians, came and asked me to heave
overboard a big box which had been put on board by a queer
lookin' old man just before we had started frae London. I had
seen them speer at the fellow, and put out their twa fingers
when they saw him, to guard them against the evil eye. Man! but
the supersteetion of foreigners is pairfectly rideeculous! I
sent them aboot their business pretty quick, but as just after a
fog closed in on us I felt a wee bit as they did anent
something, though I wouldn't say it was again the big box. Well,
on we went, and as the fog didn't let up for five days I joost
let the wind carry us, for if the Deil wanted to get somewheres,
well, he would fetch it up a'reet. An' if he didn't, well, we'd
keep a sharp lookout anyhow. Sure eneuch, we had a fair way and
deep water all the time. And two days ago, when the mornin' sun
came through the fog, we found ourselves just in the river
opposite Galatz. The Roumanians were wild, and wanted me right
or wrong to take out the box and fling it in the river. I had to
argy wi' them aboot it wi' a handspike. An' when the last o'
them rose off the deck wi' his head in his hand, I had convinced
them that, evil eye or no evil eye, the property and the trust
of my owners were better in my hands than in the river Danube.
They had, mind ye, taken the box on the deck ready to fling in,
and as it was marked Galatz via Varna, I thocht I'd let it lie
till we discharged in the port an' get rid o't althegither. We
didn't do much clearin' that day, an' had to remain the nicht at
anchor. But in the mornin', braw an' airly, an hour before
sunup, a man came aboard wi' an order, written to him from
England, to receive a box marked for one Count Dracula. Sure
eneuch the matter was one ready to his hand. He had his papers
a' reet, an' gla d I was to be rid o' the dam' thing, for I was
beginnin' masel' to feel uneasy at it. If the Deil did have any
luggage aboord the ship, I'm thinkin' it was nane ither than
that same!"
"What was the name of the man who took it?" asked Dr. Van
Helsing with restrained eagerness.
"I'll be tellin' ye quick!" he answered, and stepping down to
his cabin, produced a receipt signed "Immanuel Hildesheim."
Burgen-strasse 16 was the address. We found out that this was
all the Captain knew, so with thanks we came away.
We found Hildesheim in his office, a Hebrew of rather the
Adelphi Theatre type, with a nose like a sheep, and a fez. His
arguments were pointed with specie, we doing the punctuation,
and with a little bargaining he told us what he knew. This
turned out to be simple but important. He had received a letter
from Mr. de Ville of London, telling him to receive, if possible
before sunrise so as to avoid customs, a box which would arrive
at Galatz in the Czarina Catherine. This he was to give in
charge to a certain Petrof Skinsky, who dealt with the Slovaks
who traded down the river to the port. He had been paid for his
work by an English bank note, which had been duly cashed for
gold at the Danube International Bank. When Skinsky had come to
him, he had taken him to the ship and handed over the box, so as
to save parterage. That was all he knew.
We then sought for Skinsky, but were unable to find him. One
of his neighbors, who did not seem to bear him any affection,
said that he had gone away two days before,no one knew whither.
This was corroborated by his landlord, who had received by
messenger the key of the house together with the rent due, in
English money. This had been between ten and eleven o'clock last
night. We were at a standstill again.
Whilst we were talking one came running and breathlessly
gasped out that the body of Skinsky had been found inside the
wall of the churchyard of St. Peter, and that the throat had
been torn open as if by some wild animal. Those we had been
speaking with ran off to see the horror, the women crying out.
"This is the work of a Slovak!" We hurried away lest we should
have been in some way drawn into the affair, and so detained.
As we came home we could arrive at no definite conclusion. We
were all convinced that the box was on its way, by water, to
somewhere, but where that might be we would have to discover.
With heavy hearts we came home to the hotel to Mina.
When we met together, the first thing was to consult as to
taking Mina again into our confidence. Things are getting
desperate, and it is at least a chance, though a hazardous one.
As a preliminary step, I was released from my promise to her.
MINA HARKER'S JOURNAL
30 October, evening.--They were so tired and worn out and
dispirited that there was nothing to be done till they had some
rest, so I asked them all to lie down for half an hour whilst I
should enter everything up to the moment. I feel so grateful to
the man who invented the "Traveller's" typewriter, and to Mr.
Morris for getting this one for me. I should have felt quite
astray doing the work if I had to write with a pen . . .
It is all done. Poor dear, dear Jonathan, what he must have
suffered, what he must be suffering now. He lies on the sofa
hardly seeming to breathe, and his whole body appears in
collapse. His brows are knit. His face is drawn with pain. Poor
fellow, maybe he is thinking, and I can see his face all
wrinkled up with the concentration of his thoughts. Oh! if I
could only help at all. I shall do what I can.
I have asked Dr. Van Helsing, and he has got me all the
papers that I have not yet seen. Whilst they are resting, I
shall go over all carefully, and perhaps I may arrive at some
conclusion. I shall try to follow the Professor's example, and
think without prejudice on the facts before me . . .
I do believe that under God's providence I have made a
discovery. I shall get the maps and look over them.
I am more than ever sure that I am right. My new conclusion
is ready, so I shall get our party together and read it. They
can judge it. It is well to be accurate, and every minute is
precious.
MINA HARKER'S MEMORANDUM
(ENTERED IN HER JOURNAL)
Ground of inquiry.--Count Dracula's problem is to get back to
his own place.
(a) He must be brought back by some one. This is evident. For
had he power to move himself as he wished he could go either as
man, or wolf, or bat, or in some other way. He evidently fears
discovery or interference, in the state of helplessness in which
he must be, confined as he is between dawn and sunset in his
wooden box.
(b) How is he to be taken?--Here a process of exclusions may
help us. By road, by rail, by water?
1. By Road.--There are endless difficulties, especially in
leaving the city.
(x) There are people. And people are curious, and
investigate. A hint, a surmise, a doubt as to what might be in
the box, would destroy him.
(y) There are, or there may be, customs and octroi officers
to pass.
(z) His pursuers might follow. This is his highest fear. And
in order to prevent his being betrayed he has repelled, so far
as he can, even his victim, me!
2. By Rail.--There is no one in charge of the box. It would
have to take its chance of being delayed, and delay would be
fatal, with enemies on the track. True, he might escape at
night. But what would he be, if left in a strange place with no
refuge that he could fly to? This is not what he intends, and he
does not mean to risk it.
3. By Water.--Here is the safest way, in one respect, but
with most danger in another. On the water he is powerless except
at night. Even then he can only summon fog and storm and snow
and his wolves. But were he wrecked, the living water would
engulf him, helpless, and he would indeed be lost. He could have
the vessel drive to land, but if it were unfriendly land,
wherein he was not free to move, his position would still be
desperate.
We know from the record that he was on the water, so what we
have to do is to ascertain what water.
The first thing is to realize exactly what he has done as
yet. We may, then, get a light on what his task is to be.
Firstly.--We must differentiate between what he did in London
as part of his general plan of action, when he was pressed for
moments and had to arrange as best he could.
Secondly we must see, as well as we can surmise it from the
facts we know of, what he has done here.
As to the first, he evidently intended to arrive at Galatz,
and sent invoice to Varna to deceive us lest we should ascertain
his means of exit from England. His immediate and sole purpose
then was to escape. The proof of this, is the letter of
instructions sent ot Immanuel Hildesheim to clear and take away
the box before sunrise. There is also the instruction to Petrof
Skinsky. These we must only guess at, but there must have been
some letter or message, since Skinsky came to Hildesheim.
That, so far, his plans were successful we know. The Czarina
Catherine made a phenomenally quick journey. So much so that
Captain Donelson's suspicions were aroused. But his superstition
united with his canniness played the Count's game for him, and
he ran with his favoring wind through fogs and all till he
brought up blindfold at Galatz. That the Count's arrangements
were well made, has been proved. Hildesheim cleared the box,
took it off, and gave it to Skinsky. Skinsky took it, and here
we lose the trail. We only know that the box is somewhere on the
water, moving along. The customs and the octroi, if there be
any, have been avoided.
Now we come to what the Count must have done after his
arrival, on land, at Galatz.
The box was given to Skinsky before sunrise. At sunrise the
Count could appear in his own form. Here, we ask why Skinsky was
chosen at all to aid in the work? In my husband's diary, Skinsky
is mentioned as dealing with the Slovaks who trade down the
river to the port. And the man's remark, that the murder was the
work of a Slovak, showed the general feeling against his class.
The Count wanted isolation.
My surmise is this, that in London the Count decided to get
back to his castle by water, as the most safe and secret way. He
was brought from the castle by Szgany, and probably they
delivered their cargo to Slovaks who took the boxes to Varna,
for there they were shipped to London. Thus the Count had
knowledge of the persons who could arrange this service. When
the box was on land, before sunrise or after sunset, he came out
from his box, met Skinsky and instructed him what to do as to
arranging the carriage of the box up some river. When this was
done, and he knew that all was in train, he blotted out his
traces, as he thought, by murdering his agent.
I have examined the map and find that the river most suitable
for the Slovaks to have ascended is either the Pruth or the
Sereth. I read in the typescript that in my trance I heard cows
low and water swirling level with my ears and the creaking of
wood. The Count in his box, then, was on a river in an open
boat, propelled probably either by oars or poles, for the banks
are near and it is working against stream. There would be no
such if floating down stream.
Of course it may not be either the Sereth or the Pruth, but
we may possibly investigate further. Now of these two, the Pruth
is the more easily navigated, but the Sereth is, at Fundu,
joined by the Bistritza which runs up round the Borgo Pass. The
loop it makes is manifestly as close to Dracula's castle as can
be got by water.
MINA HARKER'S JOURNAL--CONTINUED
When I had done reading, Jonathan took me in his arms and
kissed me. The others kept shaking me by both hands, and Dr. Van
Helsing said, "Our dear Madam Mina is once more our teacher. Her
eyes have been where we were blinded. Now we are on the track
once again, and this time we may succeed. Our enemy is at his
most helpless. And if we can come on him by day, on the water,
our task will be over. He has a start, but he is powerless to
hasten, as he may not leave this box lest those who carry him
may suspect. For them to suspect would be to prompt them to
throw him in the stream where he perish. This he knows, and will
not. Now men, to our Council of War, for here and now, we must
plan what each and all shall do."
"I shall get a steam launch and follow him," said Lord
Godalming.
"And I, horses to follow on the bank lest by chance he land,"
said Mr. Morris.
"Good!" said the Professor, "both good. But neither must go
alone. There must be force to overcome force if need be. The
Slovak is strong and rough, and he carries rude arms." All the
men smiled, for amongst them they carried a small arsenal.
Said Mr. Morris, "I have brought some Winchesters. They are
pretty handy in a crowd, and there may be wolves. The Count, if
you remember, took some other precautions. He made some
requisitions on others that Mrs. Harker could not quite hear or
understand. We must be ready at all points."
Dr. Seward said, "I think I had better go with Quincey. We
have been accustomed to hunt together, and we two, well armed,
will be a match for whatever may come along. You must not be
alone, Art. It may be necessary to fight the Slovaks, and a
chance thrust, for I don't suppose these fellows carry guns,
would undo all our plans. There must be no chances, this time.
We shall not rest until the Count's head and body have been
separated, and we are sure that he cannot reincarnate."
He looked at Jonathan as he spoke, and Jonathan looked at me.
I could see that the poor dear was torn about in his mind. Of
course he wanted to be with me. But then the boat service would,
most likely, be the one which would destroy the . . . the . . .
Vampire. (Why did I hesitate to write the word?)
He was silent awhile, and during his silence Dr. Van Helsing
spoke, "Friend Jonathan, this is to you for twice reasons.
First, because you are young and brave and can fight, and all
energies may be needed at the last. And again that it is your
right to destroy him. That, which has wrought such woe to you
and yours. Be not afraid for Madam Mina. She will be my care, if
I may. I am old. My legs are not so quick to run as once. And I
am not used to ride so long or to pursue as need be, or to fight
with lethal weapons. But I can be of other service. I can fight
in other way. And I can die, if need be, as well as younger men.
Now let me say that what I would is this. While you, my Lord
Godalming and friend Jonathan go in your so swift little
steamboat up the river, and whilst John and Quincey guard the
bank where perchance he might be landed, I will take Madam Mina
right into the heart of the enemy's country. Whilst the old fox
is tied in his box, floating on the running stream whence he
cannot escape to land, where he dares not raise the lid of his
coffin box lest his Slovak carriers should in fear leave him to
perish, we shall go in the track where Jonathan went, from
Bistritz over the Borgo, and find our way to the Castle of
Dracula. Here, Madam Mina's hypnotic power will surely help, and
we shall find our way, all dark and unknown otherwise, after the
first sunrise when we are near that fateful place. There is much
to be done, and other places to be made sanctify, so that that
nest of vipers be obliterated."
Here Jonathan interrupted him hotly, "Do you mean to say,
Professor Van Helsing, that you would bring Mina, in her sad
case and tainted as she is with that devil's illness, right into
the jaws of his deathtrap? Not for the world! Not for Heaven or
Hell!"
He became almost speechless for a minute, and then went on,
"Do you know what the place is? Have you seen that awful den of
hellish infamy, with the very moonlight alive with grisly
shapes, and ever speck of dust that whirls in the wind a
devouring monster in embryo? Have you felt the Vampire's lips
upon your throat?"
Here he turned to me, and as his eyes lit on my forehead he
threw up his arms with a cry, "Oh, my God, what have we done to
have this terror upon us?" and he sank down on the sofa in a
collapse of misery.
The Professor's voice, as he spoke in clear, sweet tones,
which seemed to vibrate in the air, calmed us all.
"Oh, my friend, it is because I would save Madam Mina from
that awful place that I would go. God forbid that I should take
her into that place. There is work, wild work, to be done before
that place can be purify. Remember that we are in terrible
straits. If the Count escape us this time, and he is strong and
subtle and cunning, he may choose to sleep him for a century,
and then in time our dear one," he took my hand, "would come to
him to keep him company, and would be as those others that you,
Jonathan, saw. You have told us of their gloating lips. You
heard their ribald laugh as they clutched the moving bag that
the Count threw to them. You shudder, and well may it be.
Forgive me that I make you so much pain, but it is necessary. My
friend, is it not a dire need for that which I am giving,
possibly my life? If it, were that any one went into that place
to stay, it is I who would have to go to keep them company."
"Do as you will," said Jonathan, with a sob that shook him
all over, "we are in the hands of God!"
Later.--Oh, it did me good to see the way that these brave
men worked. How can women help loving men when they are so
earnest, and so true, and so brave! And, too, it made me think
of the wonderful power of money! What can it not do when basely
used. I felt so thankful that Lord Godalming is rich, and both
he and Mr. Morris, who also has plenty of money, are willing to
spend it so freely. For if they did not, our little expedition
could not start,either so promptly or so well equipped, as it
will within another hour. It is not three hours since it was
arranged what part each of us was to do. And now Lord Godalming
and Jonathan have a lovely steam launch, with steam up ready to
start at a moment's notice. Dr. Seward and Mr. Morris have half
a dozen good horses, well appointed. We have all the maps and
appliances of various kinds that can be had. Professor Van
Helsing and I are to leave by the 11:40 train tonight for
Veresti, where we are to get a carriage to drive to the Borgo
Pass. We are bringing a good deal of ready money, as we are to
buy a carriage and horses. We shall drive ourselves, for we have
no one whom we can trust in the matter. The Professor knows
something of a great many languages, so we shall get on all
right. We have all got arms, even for me a large bore revolver.
Jonathan would not be happy unless I was armed like the rest.
Alas! I cannot carry one arm that the rest do, the scar on my
forehead forbids that. Dear Dr. Van Helsing comforts me by
telling me that I am fully armed as there may be wolves. The
weather is getting colder every hour, and there are snow
flurries which come and go as warnings.
Later.--It took all my courage to say goodby to my darling.
We may never meet again. Courage, Mina! The Professor is looking
at you keenly. His look is a warning. There must be no tears
now, unless it may be that God will let them fall in gladness.
JONATHAN HARKER'S JOURNAL
30 October, night.--I am writing this in the light from the
furnace door of the steam launch. Lord Godalming is firing up.
He is an experienced hand at the work, as he has had for years a
launch of his own on the Thames, and another on the Norfolk
Broads. Regarding our plans, we finally decided that Mina's
guess was correct, and that if any waterway was chosen for the
Count's escape back to his Castle, the Sereth and then the
Bistritza at its junction, would be the one. We took it, that
somewhere about the 47th degree, north latitude, would be the
place chosen for crossing the country between the river and the
Carpathians. We have no fear in running at good speed up the
river at night. There is plenty of water, and the banks are wide
enough apart to make steaming, even in the dark, easy enough.
Lord Godalming tells me to sleep for a while, as it is enough
for the present for one to be on watch. But I cannot sleep, how
can I with the terrible danger hanging over my darling, and her
going out into that awful place . . .
My only comfort is that we are in the hands of God. Only for
that faith it would be easier to die than to live, and so be
quit of all the trouble. Mr. Morris and Dr. Seward were off on
their long ride before we started. They are to keep up the right
bank, far enough off to get on higher lands where they can see a
good stretch of river and avoid the following of its curves.
They have, for the first stages, two men to ride and lead their
spare horses, four in all, so as not to excite curiosity. When
they dismiss the men, which shall be shortly, they shall
themselves look after the horses. It may be necessary for us to
join forces. If so they can mount our whole party. One of the
saddles has a moveable horn, and can be easily adapted for Mina,
if required.
It is a wild adventure we are on. Here, as we are rushing
along through the darkness, with the cold from the river seeming
to rise up and strike us, with all the mysterious voices of the
night around us, it all comes home. We seem to be drifting into
unknown places and unknown ways. Into a whole world of dark and
dreadful things. Godalming is shutting the furnace door . . .
31 October.--Still hurrying along. The day has come, and
Godalming is sleeping. I am on watch. The morning is bitterly
cold, the furnace heat is grateful, though we have heavy fur
coats. As yet we have passed only a few open boats, but none of
them had on board any box or package of anything like the size
of the one we seek. The men were scared every time we turned our
electric lamp on them, and fell on their knees and prayed.
1 November, evening.--No news all day. We have found nothing
of the kind we seek. We have now passed into the Bistritza, and
if we are wrong in our surmise our chance is gone. We have
overhauled every boat, big and little. Early this morning, one
crew took us for a Government boat, and treated us accordingly.
We saw in this a way of smoothing matters, so at Fundu,where the
Bistritza runs into the Sereth, we got a Roumanian flag which we
now fly conspicuously. With every boat which we have over-hauled
since then this trick has succeeded. We have had every deference
shown to us, and not once any objection to whatever we chose to
ask or do. Some of the Slovaks tell us that a big boat passed
them, going at more than usual speed as she had a double crew on
board. This was before they came to Fundu, so they could not
tell us whether the boat turned into the Bistritza or continued
on up the Sereth. At Fundu we could not hear of any such boat,
so she must have passed there in the night. I am feeling very
sleepy. The cold is perhaps beginning to tell upon me, and
nature must have rest some time. Godalming insists that he shall
keep the first watch. God bless him for all his goodness to poor
dear Mina and me.
2 November, morning.--It is broad daylight. That good fellow
would not wake me. He says it would have been a sin to, for I
slept peacefully and was forgetting my trouble. It seems
brutally selfish to me to have slept so long, and let him watch
all night, but he was quite right. I am a new man this morning.
And, as I sit here and watch him sleeping, I can do all that is
necessary both as to minding the engine, steering, and keeping
watch. I can feel that my strength and energy are coming back to
me. I wonder where Mina is now, and Van Helsing. They should
have got to Veresti about noon on Wednesday. It would take them
some time to get the carriage and horses. So if they had started
and travelled hard, they would be about now at the Borgo Pass.
God guide and help them! I am afraid to think what may happen.
If we could only go faster. But we cannot. The engines are
throbbing and doing their utmost. I wonder how Dr. Seward and
Mr. Morris are getting on. There seem to be endless streams
running down the mountains into this river, but as none of them
are very large, at present, at all events, though they are
doubtless terrible in winter and when the snow melts, the
horsemen may not have met much obstruction. I hope that before
we get to Strasba we may see them. For if by that time we have
not overtaken the Count, it may be necessary to take counsel
together what to do next.
DR. SEWARD'S DIARY
2 November.--Three days on the road. No news, and no time to
write it if there had been, for every moment is precious. We
have had only the rest needful for the horses. But we are both
bearing it wonderfully. Those adventurous days of ours are
turning up useful. We must push on. We shall never feel happy
till we get the launch in sight again.
3 Novenber.--We heard at Fundu that the launch had gone up
the Bistritza. I wish it wasn't so cold. There are signs of snow
coming. And if it falls heavy it will stop us. In such case we
must get a sledge and go on, Russian fashion.
4 Novenber.--Today we heard of the launch having been
detained by an accident when trying to force a way up the
rapids. The Slovak boats get up all right, by aid of a rope and
steering with knowledge. Some went up only a few hours before.
Godalming is an amateur fitter himself, and evidently it was he
who put the launch in trim again.
Finally, they got up the rapids all right, with local help,
and are off on the chase afresh. I fear that the boat is not any
better for the accident, the peasantry tell us that after she
got upon smooth water again, she kept stopping every now and
again so long as she was in sight. We must push on harder than
ever. Our help may be wanted soon.
MINA HARKER'S JOURNAL
31 October.--Arrived at Veresti at noon. The Professor tells
me that this morning at dawn he could hardly hypnotize me at
all, and that all I could say was, "dark and quiet." He is off
now buying a carriage and horses. He says that he will later on
try to buy additional horses, so that we may be able to change
them on the way. We have something more than 70 miles before us.
The country is lovely, and most interesting. If only we were
under different conditions, how delightful it would be to see it
all. If Jonathan and I were driving through it alone what a
pleasure it would be. To stop and see people, and learn
something of their life, and to fill our minds and memories with
all the color and picturesqueness of the whole wild, beautiful
country and the quaint people! But, alas!
Later.--Dr. Van Helsing has returned. He has got the carriage
and horses. We are to have some dinner, and to start in an hour.
The landlady is putting us up a huge basket of provisions. It
seems enough for a company of soldiers. The Professor encourages
her, and whispers to me that it may be a week before we can get
any food again. He has been shopping too, and has sent home such
a wonderful lot of fur coats and wraps, and all sorts of warm
things. There will not be any chance of our being cold.
We shall soon be off. I am afraid to think what may happen to
us. We are truly in the hands of God. He alone knows what may
be, and I pray Him, with all the strength of my sad and humble
soul, that He will watch over my beloved husband. That whatever
may happen, Jonathan may know that I loved him and honored him
more than I can say, and that my latest and truest thought will
be always for him.
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Chapter 27
MINA HARKER'S JOURNAL
1 November.--All day long we have travelled, and at a good
speed. The horses seem to know that they are being kindly
treated, for they go willingly their full stage at best speed.
We have now had so many changes and find the same thing so
constantly that we are encouraged to think that the journey will
be an easy one. Dr. Van Helsing is laconic, he tells the farmers
that he is hurrying to Bistritz, and pays them well to make the
exchange of horses. We get hot soup, or coffee, or tea, and off
we go. It is a lovely country. Full of beauties of all
imaginable kinds, and the people are brave, and strong, and
simple, and seem full of nice qualities. They are very, very
superstitious. In the first house where we stopped, when the
woman who served us saw the scar on my forehead, she crossed
herself and put out two fingers towards me, to keep off the evil
eye. I believe they went to the trouble of putting an extra
amount of garlic into our food, and I can't abide garlic. Ever
since then I have taken care not to take off my hat or veil, and
so have escaped their suspicions. We are travelling fast, and as
we have no driver with us to carry tales, we go ahead of
scandal. But I daresay that fear of the evil eye will follow
hard behind us all the way. The Professor seems tireless. All
day he would not take any rest, though he made me sleep for a
long spell. At sunset time he hypnotized me, and he says I
answered as usual,"darkness, lapping water and creaking wood."
So our enemy is still on the river. I am afraid to think of
Jonathan, but somehow I have now no fear for him, or for myself.
I write this whilst we wait in a farmhouse for the horses to be
ready. Dr. Van Helsing is sleeping. Poor dear, he looks very
tired and old and grey, but his mouth is set as firmly as a
conqueror's. Even in his sleep he is intense with resolution.
When we have well started I must make him rest whilst I drive. I
shall tell him that we have days before us, and he must not
break down when most of all his strength will be needed . . .
All is ready. We are off shortly.
2 November, morning.--I was successful, and we took turns
driving all night. Now the day is on us, bright though cold.
There is a strange heaviness in the air. I say heaviness for
want of a better word. I mean that it oppresses us both. It is
very cold, and only our warm furs keep us comfortable. At dawn
Van Helsing hypnotized me. He says I answered "darkness,
creaking wood and roaring water," so the river is changing as
they ascend. I do hope that my darling will not run any chance
of danger, more than need be, but we are in God's hands.
2 November, night.--All day long driving. The country gets
wilder as we go, and the great spurs of the Carpathians, which
at Veresti seemed so far from us and so low on the horizon, now
seem to gather round us and tower in front. We both seem in good
spirits. I think we make an effort each to cheer the other, in
the doing so we cheer ourselves. Dr. Van Helsing says that by
morning we shall reach the Borgo Pass. The houses are very few
here now, and the Professor says that the last horse we got will
have to go on with us, as we may not be able to change. He got
two in addition to the two we changed, so that now we have a
rude four-in-hand. The dear horses are patient and good, and
they give us no trouble. We are not worried with other
travellers, and so even I can drive. We shall get to the Pass in
daylight. We do not want to arrive before. So we take it easy,
and have each a long rest in turn. Oh, what will tomorrow bring
to us? We go to seek the place where my poor darling suffered so
much. God grant that we may be guided aright, and that He will
deign to watch over my husband and those dear to us both, and
who are in such deadly peril. As for me, I am not worthy in His
sight. Alas! I am unclean to His eyes, and shall be until He may
deign to let me stand forth in His sight as one of those who
have not incurred His wrath.
MEMORANDUM BY ABRAHAM VAN HELSING
4 November.--This to my old and true friend John Seward, M.
D., of Purefleet, London, in case I may not see him. It may
explain. It is morning, and I write by a fire which all the
night I have kept alive, Madam Mina aiding me. It is cold, cold.
So cold that the grey heavy sky is full of snow, which when it
falls will settle for all winter as the ground is hardening to
receive it. It seems to have affected Madam Mina. She has been
so heavy of head all day that she was not like herself. She
sleeps, and sleeps, and sleeps! She who is usual so alert, have
done literally nothing all the day. She even have lost her
appetite. She make no entry into her little diary, she who write
so faithful at every pause. Something whisper to me that all is
not well. However, tonight she is more vif. Her long sleep all
day have refresh and restore her, for now she is all sweet and
bright as ever. At sunset I try to hypnotize her, but alas! with
no effect. The power has grown less and less with each day, and
tonight it fail me altogether. Well, God's will be done,
whatever it may be, and whithersoever it may lead!
Now to the historical, for as Madam Mina write not in her
stenography, I must, in my cumbrous old fashion, that so each
day of us may not go unrecorded.
We got to the Borgo Pass just after sunrise yesterday
morning. When I saw the signs of the dawn I got ready for the
hypnotism. We stopped our carriage, and got down so that there
might be no disturbance. I made a couch with furs, and Madam
Mina, lying down, yield herself as usual, but more slow and more
short time than ever, to the hypnotic sleep. As before, came the
answer, "darkness and the swirling of water." Then she woke,
bright and radiant and we go on our way and soon reach the Pass.
At this time and place, she become all on fire with zeal. Some
new guiding power be in her manifested, for she point to a road
and say, "This is the way."
"How know you it?" I ask.
"Of course I know it,' she answer, and with a pause, add,
"Have not my Jonathan travelled it and wrote of his travel?"
At first I think somewhat strange, but soon I see that there
be only one such byroad. It is used but little, and very
different from the coach road from the Bukovina to Bistritz,
which is more wide and hard, and more of use.
So we came down this road. When we meet other ways, not
always were we sure that they were roads at all, for they be
neglect and light snow have fallen, the horses know and they
only. I give rein to them, and they go on so patient. By and by
we find all the things which Jonathan have note in that
wonderful diary of him. Then we go on for long, long hours and
hours. At the first, I tell Madam Mina to sleep. She try, and
she succeed. She sleep all the time, till at the last, I feel
myself to suspicious grow, and attempt to wake her. But she
sleep on, and I may not wake her though I try. I do not wish to
try too hard lest I harm her. For I know that she have suffer
much, and sleep at times be all-in-all to her. I think I drowse
myself, for all of sudden I feel guilt, as though I have done
something. I find myself bolt up, with the reins in my hand, and
the good horses go along jog, jog, just as ever. I look down and
find Madam Mina still asleep. It is now not far off sunset time,
and over the snow the light of the sun flow in big yellow flood,
so that we throw great long shadow on where the mountain rise so
steep. For we are going up, and up, and all is oh, so wild and
rocky, as though it were the end of the world.
Then I arouse Madam Mina. This time she wake with not much
trouble, and then I try to put her to hypnotic sleep. But she
sleep not, being as though I were not. Still I try and try, till
all at once I find her and myself in dark, so I look round, and
find that the sun have gone down. Madam Mina laugh, and I turn
and look at her. She is now quite awake, and look so well as I
never saw her since that night at Carfax when we first enter the
Count's house. I am amaze, and not at ease then. But she is so
bright and tender and thoughtful for me that I forget all fear.
I light a fire, for we have brought supply of wood with us, and
she prepare food while I undo the horses and set them, tethered
in shelter, to feed. Then when I return to the fire she have my
supper ready. I go to help her, but she smile, and tell me that
she have eat already. That she was so hungry that she would not
wait. I like it not, and I have grave doubts. But I fear to
affright her, and so I am silent of it. She help me and I eat
alone, and then we wrap in fur and lie beside the fire, and I
tell her to sleep while I watch. But presently I forget all of
watching. And when I sudden remember that I watch, I find her
lying quiet, but awake, and looking at me with so bright eyes.
Once, twice more the same occur, and I get much sleep till
before morning. When I wake I try to hypnotize her, but alas!
Though she shut her eyes obedient, she may not sleep. The sun
rise up, and up, and up, and then sleep come to her too late,
but so heavy that she will not wake. I have to lift her up, and
place her sleeping in the carriage when I have harnessed the
horses and made all ready. Madam still sleep, and she look in
her sleep more healthy and more redder than before. And I like
it not. And I am afraid, afraid, afraid! I am afraid of all
things, even to think but I must go on my way. The stake we play
for is life and death, or more than these, and we must not
flinch.
5 November, morning.--Let me be accurate in everything, for
though you and I have seen some strange things together, you may
at the first think that I, Van Helsing, am mad. That the many
horrors and the so long strain on nerves has at the last turn my
brain.
All yesterday we travel, always getting closer to the
mountains, and moving into a more and more wild and desert land.
There are great, frowning precipices and much falling water, and
Nature seem to have held sometime her carnival. Madam Mina still
sleep and sleep. And though I did have hunger and appeased it, I
could not waken her, even for food. I began to fear that the
fatal spell of the place was upon her, tainted as she is with
that Vampire baptism. "Well," said I to myself, "if it be that
she sleep all the day, it shall also be that I do not sleep at
night." As we travel on the rough road, for a road of an ancient
and imperfect kind there was, I held down my head and slept.
Again I waked with a sense of guilt and of time passed, and
found Madam Mina still sleeping, and the sun low down. But all
was indeed changed. The frowning mountains seemed further away,
and we were near the top of a steep rising hill, on summit of
which was such a castle as Jonathan tell of in his diary. At
once I exulted and feared. For now, for good or ill, the end was
near.
I woke Madam Mina, and again tried to hypnotize her, but
alas! unavailing till too late. Then, ere the great dark came
upon us, for even after down sun the heavens reflected the gone
sun on the snow, and all was for a time in a great twilight. I
took out the horses and fed them in what shelter I could. Then I
make a fire, and near it I make Madam Mina, now awake and more
charming than ever, sit comfortable amid her rugs. I got ready
food, but she would not eat, simply saying that she had not
hunger. I did not press her, knowing her unavailingness. But I
myself eat, for I must needs now be strong for all. Then, with
the fear on me of what might be, I drew a ring so big for her
comfort, round where Madam Mina sat. And over the ring I passed
some of the wafer, and I broke it fine so that all was well
guarded. She sat still all the time, so still as one dead. And
she grew whiter and even whiter till the snow was not more pale,
and no word she said. But when I drew near, she clung to me, and
I could know that the poor soul shook her from head to feet with
a tremor that was pain to feel.
I said to her presently, when she had grown more quiet, "Will
you not come over to the fire?" for I wished to make a test of
what she could. She rose obedient, but when she have made a step
she stopped, and stood as one stricken.
"Why not go on?" I asked. She shook her head, and coming
back, sat down in her place. Then, looking at me with open eyes,
as of one waked from sleep, she said simply,"I cannot!" and
remained silent. I rejoiced, for I knew that what she could not,
none of those that we dreaded could. Though there might be
danger to her body, yet her soul was safe!
Presently the horses began to scream, and tore at their
tethers till I came to them and quieted them. When they did feel
my hands on them, they whinnied low as in joy,and licked at my
hands and were quiet for a time. Many times through the night
did I come to them, till it arrive to the cold hour when all
nature is at lowest, and every time my coming was with quiet of
them. In the cold hour the fire began to die, and I was about
stepping forth to replenish it, for now the snow came in flying
sweeps and with it a chill mist. Even in the dark there was a
light of some kind, as there ever is over snow, and it seemed as
though the snow flurries and the wreaths of mist took shape as
of women with trailing garments. All was in dead, grim silence
only that the horses whinnied and cowered, as if in terror of
the worst. I began to fear, horrible fears. But then came to me
the sense of safety in that ring wherein I stood. I began too,
to think that my imaginings were of the night, and the gloom,
and the unrest that I have gone through, and all the terrible
anxiety. It was as though my memories of all Jonathan's horrid
experience were befooling me. For the snow flakes and the mist
began to wheel and circle round, till I could get as though a
shadowy glimpse of those women that would have kissed him. And
then the horses cowered lower and lower, and moaned in terror as
men do in pain. Even the madness of fright was not to them, so
that they could break away. I feared for my dear Madam Mina when
these weird figures drew near and circled round. I looked at
her, but she sat calm, and smiled at me. When I would have
stepped to the fire to replenish it, she caught me and held me
back, and whispered, like a voice that one hears in a dream, so
low it was.
"No! No! Do not go without. Here you are safe!"
I turned to her, and looking in her eyes said, "But you? It
is for you that I fear!"
Whereat she laughed, a laugh low and unreal, and said, "Fear
for me! Why fear for me? None safer in all the world from them
than I am,"and as I wondered at the meaning of her words, a puff
of wind made the flame leap up, and I see the red scar on her
forehead. Then, alas! I knew. Did I not, I would soon have
learned, for the wheeling figures of mist and snow came closer,
but keeping ever without the Holy circle. Then they began to
materialize till, if God have not taken away my reason, for I
saw it through my eyes. There were before me in actual flesh the
same three women that Jonathan saw in the room, when they would
have kissed his throat. I knew the swaying round forms, the
bright hard eyes, the white teeth, the ruddy color, the
voluptuous lips. They smiled ever at poor dear Madam Mina. And
as their laugh came through the silence of the night, they
twined their arms and pointed to her, and said in those so sweet
tingling tones that Jonathan said were of the intolerable
sweetness of the water glasses, "Come, sister. Come to us.
Come!"
In fear I turned to my poor Madam Mina, and my heart with
gladness leapt like flame. For oh! the terror in her sweet eyes,
the repulsion, the horror, told a story to my heart that was all
of hope. God be thanked she was not, yet of them. I seized some
of the firewood which was by me, and holding out some of the
Wafer, advanced on them towards the fire. They drew back before
me, and laughed their low horrid laugh. I fed the fire, and
feared them not. For I knew that we were safe within the ring,
which she could not leave no more than they could enter. The
horses had ceased to moan, and lay still on the ground. The snow
fell on them softly, and they grew whiter. I knew that there was
for the poor beasts no more of terror.
And so we remained till the red of the dawn began to fall
through the snow gloom. I was desolate and afraid, and full of
woe and terror. But when that beautiful sun began to climb the
horizon life was to me again. At the first coming of the dawn
the horrid figures melted in the whirling mist and snow. The
wreaths of transparent gloom moved away towards the castle, and
were lost.
Instinctively, with the dawn coming, I turned to Madam Mina,
intending to hypnotize her. But she lay in a deep and sudden
sleep, from which I could not wake her. I tried to hypnotize
through her sleep, but she made no response, none at all, and
the day broke. I fear yet to stir. I have made my fire and have
seen the horses, they are all dead. Today I have much to do
here, and I keep waiting till the sun is up high. For there may
be places where I must go, where that sunlight, though snow and
mist obscure it, will be to me a safety.
I will strengthen me with breakfast, and then I will do my
terrible work. Madam Mina still sleeps, and God be thanked! She
is calm in her sleep . . .
JONATHAN HARKER'S JOURNAL
4 November, evening.--The accident to the launch has been a
terrible thing for us. Only for it we should have overtaken the
boat long ago, and by now my dear Mina would have been free. I
fear to think of her, off on the wolds near that horrid place.
We have got horses, and we follow on the track. I note this
whilst Godalming is getting ready. We have our arms. The Szgany
must look out if they mean to fight. Oh, if only Morris and
Seward were with us. We must only hope! If I write no more
Goodby Mina! God bless and keep you.
DR. SEWARD'S DIARY
5 November.--With the dawn we saw the body of Szgany before
us dashing away from the river with their leiter wagon. They
surrounded it in a cluster, and hurried along as though beset.
The snow is falling lightly and there is a strange excitement in
the air. It may be our own feelings, but the depression is
strange. Far off I hear the howling of wolves. The snow brings
them down from the mountains, and there are dangers to all of
us, and from all sides. The horses are nearly ready, and we are
soon off. We ride to death of some one. God alone knows who, or
where, or what, or when, or how it may be . . .
DR. VAN HELSING'S MEMORANDUM
5 November, afternoon.--I am at least sane. Thank God for
that mercy at all events, though the proving it has been
dreadful. When I left Madam Mina sleeping within the Holy
circle, I took my way to the castle. The blacksmith hammer which
I took in the carriage from Veresti was useful, though the doors
were all open I broke them off the rusty hinges, lest some ill
intent or ill chance should close them, so that being entered I
might not get out. Jonathan's bitter experience served me here.
By memory of his diary I found my way to the old chapel, for I
knew that here my work lay. The air was oppressive. It seemed as
if there was some sulphurous fume, which at times made me dizzy.
Either there was a roaring in my ears or I heard afar off the
howl of wolves. Then I bethought me of my dear Madam Mina, and I
was in terrible plight. The dilemma had me between his horns.
Her, I had not dare to take into this place, but left safe
from the Vampire in that Holy circle. And yet even there would
be the wolf! I resolve me that my work lay here, and that as to
the wolves we must submit, if it were God's will. At any rate it
was only death and freedom beyond. So did I choose for her. Had
it but been for myself the choice had been easy, the maw of the
wolf were better to rest in than the grave of the Vampire! So I
make my choice to go on with my work.
I knew that there were at least three graves to find, graves
that are inhabit. So I search, and search, and I find one of
them. She lay in her Vampire sleep, so full of life and
voluptuous beauty that I shudder as though I have come to do
murder. Ah, I doubt not that in the old time, when such things
were, many a man who set forth to do such a task as mine, found
at the last his heart fail him, and then his nerve. So he delay,
and delay, and delay, till the mere beauty and the fascination
of the wanton Undead have hypnotize him. And he remain on and
on, till sunset come, and the Vampire sleep be over. Then the
beautiful eyes of the fair woman open and look love, and the
voluptuous mouth present to a kiss, and the man is weak. And
there remain one more victim in the Vampire fold. One more to
swell the grim and grisly ranks of the Undead! . . .
There is some fascination, surely, when I am moved by the
mere presence of such an one, even lying as she lay in a tomb
fretted with age and heavy with the dust of centuries, though
there be that horrid odor such as the lairs of the Count have
had. Yes, I was moved. I, Van Helsing, with all my purpose and
with my motive for hate. I was moved to a yearning for delay
which seemed to paralyze my faculties and to clog my very soul.
It may have been that the need of natural sleep, and the strange
oppression of the air were beginning to overcome me. Certain it
was that I was lapsing into sleep, the open eyed sleep of one
who yields to a sweet fascination, when there came through the
snow stilled air a long, low wail, so full of woe and pity that
it woke me like the sound of a clarion. For it was the voice of
my dear Madam Mina that I heard.
Then I braced myself again to my horrid task, and found by
wrenching away tomb tops one other of the sisters, the other
dark one. I dared not pause to look on her as I had on her
sister, lest once more I should begin to be enthrall. But I go
on searching until, presently, I find in a high great tomb as if
made to one much beloved that other fair sister which, like
Jonathan I had seen to gather herself out of the atoms of the
mist. She was so fair to look on, so radiantly beautiful, so
exquisitely voluptuous, that the very instinct of man in me,
which calls some of my sex to love and to protect one of hers,
made my head whirl with new emotion. But God be thanked, that
soul wail of my dear Madam Mina had not died out of my ears.
And, before the spell could be wrought further upon me, I had
nerved myself to my wild work. By this tim e I had searched all
the tombs in the chapel, so far as I could tell. And as there
had been only three of these Undead phantoms around us in the
night, I took it that there were no more of active Undead
existent. There was one great tomb more lordly than all the
rest. Huge it was, and nobly proportioned. On it was but one
word.
DRACULA
This then was the Undead home of the King Vampire, to whom so
many more were due. Its emptiness spoke eloquent to make certain
what I knew. Before I began to restore these women to their dead
selves through my awful work, I laid in Dracula's tomb some of
the Wafer, and so banished him from it, Undead, for ever.
Then began my terrible task, and I dreaded it. Had it been
but one, it had been easy, comparative. But three! To begin
twice more after I had been through a deed of horror. For it was
terrible with the sweet Miss Lucy, what would it not be with
these strange ones who had survived through centuries, and who
had been strenghtened by the passing of the years. Who would, if
they could, have fought for their foul lives . . .
Oh, my friend John, but it was butcher work. Had I not been
nerved by thoughts of other dead, and of the living over whom
hung such a pall of fear, I could not have gone on. I tremble
and tremble even yet, though till all was over, God be thanked,
my nerve did stand. Had I not seen the repose in the first
place, and the gladness that stole over it just ere the final
dissolution came, as realization that the soul had been won, I
could not have gone further with my butchery. I could not have
endured the horrid screeching as the stake drove home, the
plunging of writhing form, and lips of bloody foam. I should
have fled in terror and left my work undone. But it is over! And
the poor souls, I can pity them now and weep, as I think of them
placid each in her full sleep of death for a short moment ere
fading. For, friend John, hardly had my knife severed the head
of each, before the whole body began to melt away and crumble
into its native dust, as though the death that should have come
centuries agone had at last assert himself and say at once and
loud,"I am here!"
Before I left the castle I so fixed its entrances that never
more can the Count enter there Undead.
When I stepped into the circle where Madam Mina slept, she
woke from her sleep and, seeing me, cried out in pain that I had
endured too much.
"Come!" she said, "come away from this awful place! Let us go
to meet my husband who is, I know, coming towards us." She was
looking thin and pale and weak. But her eyes were pure and
glowed with fervor. I was glad to see her paleness and her
illness, for my mind was full of the fresh horror of that ruddy
vampire sleep.
And so with trust and hope, and yet full of fear, we go
eastward to meet our friends, and him, whom Madam Mina tell me
that she know are coming to meet us.
MINA HARKER'S JOURNAL
6 November.--It was late in the afternoon when the Professor
and I took our way towards the east whence I knew Jonathan was
coming. We did not go fast, though the way was steeply downhill,
for w e had to take heavy rugs and wraps with us. We dared not
face the possibility of being left without warmth in the cold
and the snow. We had to take some of our provisions too, for we
were in a perfect desolation, and so far as we could see through
the snowfall, there was not even the sign of habitation. When we
had gone about a mile, I was tired with the heavy walking and
sat down to rest. Then we looked back and saw where the clear
line of Dracula's castle cut the sky. For we were so deep under
the hill whereon it was set that the angle of perspective of the
Carpathian mountains was far below it. We saw it in all its
grandeur, perched a thousand feet on the summit of a sheer
precipice, and with seemingly a great gap between it and the
steep of the adjacent mountain on any side. There was something
wild and uncanny about the place. We could hear the distant
howling of wolves. They were far off, but the sound, even though
coming muffled through the deadening snowfall, was full of
terror. I knew from the way Dr. Van Helsing was searching about
that he was trying to seek some strategic point, where we would
be less exposed in case of attack. The rough roadway still led
downwards. We could trace it through the drifted snow.
In a little while the Professor signalled to me, so I got up
and joined him. He had found a wonderful spot, a sort of natural
hollow in a rock, with an entrance like a doorway between two
boulders. He took me by the hand and drew me in.
"See!" he said,"here you will be in shelter. And if the
wolves do come I can meet them one by one."
He brought in our furs, and made a snug nest for me, and got
out some provisions and forced them upon me. But I could not
eat, to even try to do so was repulsive to me, and much as I
would have liked to please him, I could not bring myself to the
attempt. He looked very sad, but did not reproach me. Taking his
field glasses from the case, he stood on the top of the rock,
and began to search the horizon.
Suddenly he called out, "Look! Madam Mina, look!Look!"
I sprang up and stood beside him on the rock. He handed me
his glasses and pointed. The snow was now falling more heavily,
and swirled about fiercely, for a high wind was beginning to
blow. However, there were times when there were pauses between
the snow flurries and I could see a long way round. From the
height where we were it was possible to see a great distance.
And far off, beyond the white waste of snow, I could see the
river lying like a black ribbon in kinks and curls as it wound
its way. Straight in front of us and not far off, in fact so
near that I wondered we had not noticed before, came a group of
mounted men hurrying along. In the midst of them was a cart, a
long leiter wagon which swept from side to side, like a dog's
tail wagging, with each stern inequality of the road. Outlined
against the snow as they were, I could see from the men's
clothes that they were peasants or gypsies of some kind.
On the cart was a great square chest. My heart leaped as I
saw it, for I felt that the end was coming. The evening was now
drawing close, and well I knew that at sunset the Thing, which
was till then imprisoned there, would take new freedom and could
in any of many forms elude pursuit. In fear I turned to the
Professor. To my consternation, however, he was not there. An
instant later, I saw him below me. Round the rock he had drawn a
circle, such as we had found shelter in last night.
When he had completed it he stood beside me again saying, "At
least you shall be safe here from him!" He took the glasses from
me, and at the next lull of the snow swept the whole space below
us. "See,"he said,"they come quickly. They are flogging the
horses, and galloping as hard as they can."
He paused and went on in a hollow voice, "They are racing for
the sunset. We may be too late. God's will be done!" Down came
another blinding rush of driving snow, and the whole landscape
was blotted out. It soon passed, however, and once more his
glasses were fixed on the plain.
Then came a sudden cry, "Look! Look! Look! See, two horsemen
follow fast, coming up from the south. It must be Quincey and
John. Take the glass. Look before the snow blots it all out!" I
took it and looked. The two men might be Dr. Seward and Mr.
Morris. I knew at all events that neither of them was Jonathan.
At the same time I knew that Jonathan was not far off. Looking
around I saw on the north side of the coming party two other
men, riding at breakneck speed. One of them I knew was Jonathan,
and the other I took, of course, to be Lord Godalming. They too,
were pursuing the party with the cart. When I told the Professor
he shouted in glee like a schoolboy, and after looking intently
till a snow fall made sight impossible, he laid his Winchester
rifle ready for use against the boulder at the opening of our
shelter.
"They are all converging," he said."When the time comes we
shall have gypsies on all sides." I got out my revolver ready to
hand, for whilst we were speaking the howling of wolves came
louder and closer. When the snow storm abated a moment we looked
again. It was strange to see the snow falling in such heavy
flakes close to us, and beyond, the sun shining more and more
brightly as it sank down towards the far mountain tops. Sweeping
the glass all around us I could see here and there dots moving
singly and in twos and threes and larger numbers. The wolves
were gathering for their prey.
Every instant seemed an age whilst we waited. The wind came
now in fierce bursts, and the snow was driven with fury as it
swept upon us in circling eddies. At times we could not see an
arm's length before us. But at others, as the hollow sounding
wind swept by us, it seemed to clear the air space around us so
that we could see afar off. We had of late been so accustomed to
watch for sunrise and sunset, that we knew with fair accuracy
when it would be. And we knew that before long the sun would
set. It was hard to believe that by our watches it was less than
an hour that we waited in that rocky shelter before the various
bodies began to converge close upon us. The wind came now with
fiercer and more bitter sweeps, and more steadily from the
north. It seemingly had driven the snow clouds from us, for with
only occasional bursts, the snow fell. We could distinguish
clearly the individuals of each party, the pursued and the
pursuers. Strangely enough those pursued did not seem to
realize, or at least to care, that they were pursued. They
seemed, however, to hasten with redoubled speed as the sun
dropped lower and lower on the mountain tops.
Closer and closer they drew. The Professor and I crouched
down behind our rock, and held our weapons ready. I could see
that he was determined that they should not pass. One and all
were quite unaware of our presence.
All at once two voices shouted out to, "Halt!" One was my
Jonathan's, raised in a high key of passion. The other Mr.
Morris' strong resolute tone of quiet command. The gypsies may
not have known the language, but there was no mistaking the
tone, in whatever tongue the words were spoken. Instinctively
they reined in, and at the instant Lord Godalming and Jonathan
dashed up at one side and Dr. Seward and Mr. Morris on the
other. The leader of the gypsies, a splendid looking fellow who
sat his horse like a centaur, waved them back, and in a fierce
voice gave to his companions some word to proceed. They lashed
the horses which sprang forward. But the four men raised their
Winchester rifles, and in an unmistakable way commanded them to
stop. At the same moment Dr. Van Helsing and I rose behind the
rock and pointed our weapons at them. Seeing that they were
surrounded the men tightened their reins and drew up. The leader
turned to them and gave a word at which every man of the gypsy
party drew what weapon he carried, knife or pistol,and held
himself in readiness to attack. Issue was joined in an instant.
The leader, with a quick movement of his rein, threw his
horse out in front, and pointed first to the sun, now close down
on the hill tops, and then to the castle, said something which I
did not understand. For answer, all four men of our party threw
themselves from their horses and dashed towards the cart. I
should have felt terrible fear at seeing Jonathan in such
danger, but that the ardor of battle must have been upon me as
well as the rest of them. I felt no fear, but only a wild,
surging desire to do something. Seeing the quick movement of our
parties, the leader of the gypsies gave a command. His men
instantly formed round the cart in a sort of undisciplined
endeavor, each one shouldering and pushing the other in his
eagerness to carry out the order.
In the midst of this I could see that Jonathan on one side of
the ring of men, and Quincey on the other, were forcing a way to
the cart. It was evident that they were bent on finishing their
task before the sun should set. Nothing seemed to stop or even
to hinder them.Neither the levelled weapons nor the flashing
knives of the gypsies in front, nor the howling of the wolves
behind, appeared to even attract their attention. Jonathan's
impetuosity, and the manifest singleness of his purpose, seemed
to overawe those in front of him. Instinctively they cowered
aside and let him pass. In an instant he had jumped upon the
cart, and with a strength which seemed incredible, raised the
great box, and flung it over the wheel to the ground. In the
meantime, Mr. Morris had had to use force to pass through his
side of the ring of Szgany. All the time I had been breathlessly
watching Jonathan I had, with the tail of my eye, seen him
pressing desperately forward, and had seen the knives of the
gypsies flash as he won a way through them, and they cut at him.
He had parried with his great bowie knife, and at first I
thought that he too had come through in safety. But as he sprang
beside Jonathan, who had by now jumped from the cart, I could
see that with his left hand he was clutching at his side, and
that the blood was spurting through his fingers. He did not
delay notwithstanding this, for as Jonathan, with desperate
energy, attacked one end of the chest, attempting to prize off
the lid with his great Kukri knife, he attacked the other
frantically with his bowie. Under the efforts of both men the
lid began to yield. The nails drew with a screeching sound, and
the top of the box was thrown back.
By this time the gypsies, seeing themselves covered by the
Winchesters, and at the mercy of Lord Godalming and Dr. Seward,
had given in and made no further resistance. The sun was almost
down on the mountain tops, and the shadows of the whole group
fell upon the snow. I saw the Count lying within the box upon
the earth, some of which the rude falling from the cart had
scattered over him. He was deathly pale, just like a waxen
image, and the red eyes glared with the horrible vindictive look
which I knew so well.
As I looked, the eyes saw the sinking sun, and the look of
hate in them turned to triumph.
But, on the instant, came the sweep and flash of Jonathan's
great knife. I shrieked as I saw it shear through the throat.
Whilst at the same moment Mr. Morris's bowie knife plunged into
the heart.
It was like a miracle, but before our very eyes, and almost
in the drawing of a breath, the whole body crumbled into dust
and passed from our sight.
I shall be glad as long as I live that even in that moment of
final dissolution, there was in the face a look of peace, such
as I never could have imagined might have rested there.
The Castle of Dracula now stood out against the red sky, and
every stone of its broken battlements was articulated against
the light of the setting sun.
The gypsies, taking us as in some way the cause of the
extraordinary disappearance of the dead man, turned, without a
word, and rode away as if for their lives. Those who were
unmounted jumped upon the leiter wagon and shouted to the
horsemen not to desert them. The wolves, which had withdrawn to
a safe distance, followed in their wake, leaving us alone.
Mr. Morris, who had sunk to the ground, leaned on his elbow,
holding his hand pressed to his side. The blood still gushed
through his fingers. I flew to him, for the Holy circle did not
now keep me back, so did the two doctors. Jonathan knelt behind
him and the wounded man laid back his head on his shoulder. With
a sigh he took, with a feeble effort, my hand in that of his own
which was unstained.
He must have seen the anguish of my heart in my face, for he
smiled at me and said, "I am only too happy to have been of
service! Oh, God!" he cried suddenly, struggling to a sitting
posture and pointing to me. "It was worth for this to die! Look!
Look!"
The sun was now right down upon the mountain top, and the red
gleams fell upon my face, so that it was bathed in rosy light.
With one impulse the men sank on their knees and a deep and
earnest "Amen" broke from all as their eyes followed the
pointing of his finger.
The dying man spoke, "Now God be thanked that all has not
been in vain! See! The snow is not more stainless than her
forehead! The curse has passed away!"
And, to our bitter grief, with a smile and in silence, he
died, a gallant gentleman.
NOTE
Seven years ago we all went through the flames. And the
happiness of some of us since then is, we think, well worth the
pain we endured. It is an added joy to Mina and to me that our
boy's birthday is the same day as that on which Quincey Morris
died. His mother holds, I know, the secret belief that some of
our brave friend's spirit has passed into him. His bundle of
names links all our little band of men together. But we call him
Quincey.
In the summer of this year we made a journey to Transylvania,
and went over the old ground which was, and is, to us so full of
vivid and terrible memories. It was almost impossible to believe
that the things which we had seen with our own eyes and heard
with our own ears were living truths. Every trace of all that
had been was blotted out. The castle stood as before, reared
high above a waste of desolation.
When we got home we were talking of the old time, which we
could all look back on without despair, for Godalming and Seward
are both happily married. I took the papers from the safe where
they had been ever since our return so long ago. We were struck
with the fact, that in all the mass of material of which the
record is composed, there is hardly one authentic document.
Nothing but a mass of typewriting, except the later notebooks of
Mina and Seward and myself, and Van Helsing's memorandum. We
could hardly ask any one, even did we wish to, to accept these
as proofs of so wild a story. Van Helsing summed it all up as he
said, with our boy on his knee.
"We want no proofs. We ask none to believe us! This boy will
some day know what a brave and gallant woman his mother is.
Already he knows her sweetness and loving care. Later on he will
understand how some men so loved her, that they did dare much
for her sake.
JONATHAN HARKER
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