 Chapter 10 of Dracula by Bram Stoker. Letter Dr. Seward to Honourable Arthur Holmwood. 6 September. My dear Aunt, my news to-day is not so good, Lucy this morning had gone back a bit. There is, however, one good thing which has arisen from it. Ms. Westerner was not truly anxious concerning Lucy and has consulted me professionally about her. I took advantage of the opportunity and told her that my old master, Van Helsing, the great specialist, was coming to stay with me and that I would put her in his charge conjointly with myself. So now we can come and go without alarming her and Julie, for shock to her would mean sudden death and this in Lucy's weak condition might be disastrous to her. We are hedged in with difficulties. All of this, my poor old fellow, but please, God, we shall come through them all right. If any need I shall write, so that, if you do not hear from me, take it for granted that I am simply waiting for news. In haste, yours ever, John Seward. 7 September. The first thing Van Helsing said to me when we met at Liverpool Street was, have you said anything to our young friend, the lover of her? No, I said. I waited till I had seen you, as I said in my telegram. I wrote him a letter simply telling him that you were coming, as Miss Weston Ruh was not so well, and that I should let him know if need be. Right, my friend, he said, quite right, better he not know as yet, perhaps he shall never know. I pray so, but if it be needed, then he shall know all, and my good friend John, let me caution you. You deal with the mad men. All men are mad in some way or the other, and in as much you deal discreetly with your mad men, so deal with God's mad men, too, the rest of the world. You tell not your mad men what you do nor why you do it, you tell them not what you think, so you shall keep knowledge in its place, where it may rest, where it may gather its kind around it and breed, you and I shall keep as yet what we know here and here. He touched me on the heart and on the forehead, and then touched himself in the same way. I have for myself thoughts at the present, later I shall unfold to you. Why not now, I asked, it may do some good, we may arrive at some decision. He stopped and looked at me and said, my friend John, when the corn is grown even before it has ripened, or the milk of its mother earth is in him, and the sunshine has not yet begun to paint him with his gold. The husbandman, he pull the ear and rub him between his rough hands, and blow away the green chaff, and say to you, look, he's good corn, he will make a good crop when the time comes. I did not see the application, and told him so. For reply he reached over, and took my ear in his hand, and pulled it playfully, as he used long ago to do at lectures, and said, the good husbandman tell you, so then because he knows, but not till then. But you do not find the good husbandman dig up his planted corn to see if he grow, that is for the children who play at husbandry, not for those who take it as of the work of their life. See you now, friend John. I have sown my corn, and nature has her work to do in making it sprout, if he sprout at all. There's some promise, and I wait till the ear begins to swell. He broke off, for I evidently saw that I understood. Then he went on, and very gravely. You are always a careful student, and your casebook was ever more full than the rest. You were only a student then, now you are master, and I trust that good habit have not fail. Remember, my friend, that knowledge is stronger than memory, and we should not trust the weaker. Even if you have not kept the good practice, let me tell you that this case of our dear miss is one that may be, mind I say may be, of such interest to us, and others, that all the rest may not make him kick the beam, as your people say. Take then good note of it. Nothing is too small. I counsel you, put down in record even your doubts and surmises. Hereafter it may be of interest to you to see how true you guess. We learn from failure, not from success. When I described Lucy's symptoms, the same as before but infinitely more marked, he looked very grave but said nothing. He took with him a bag in which were many instruments and drugs, the ghastly paraphernalia of a beneficial trade, as he once called in one of his lectures, the equipment of a professor of the healing craft. When we were shown in, Mrs. Western remet us. She was alarmed but not nearly so much as I expected to find her. Nature, in one of her beneficent moods, has ordained that even death has some antidote to its own terrors. Here, in a case where any shock may prove fatal, matters are so ordered that from some cause or other, the things not personal, even the terrible change in her data to whom she is so attached, do not seem to reach her. It is something like the way dull nature gathers round a foreign body, an envelope of some insensitive tissue which can protect from evil that which it would otherwise harm by contact. If this be an ordered selfishness, then we should pause before we condemn anyone for the vice of egoism, for there may be a deeper root for its causes than we have knowledge of. I used my knowledge of this phase of spiritual pathology and laid down of rule that she should not be present with Lucy or think of her illness more than was absolutely required. She assented readily, so readily that I saw again the hand of nature fighting for life. Van Helsing and I were shown up to Lucy's room. If I was shocked when I saw her yesterday, I was horrified when I saw her today. She was ghastly, chocolate pale. The red seemed to have gone even from her lips and gums, and the bones of her face stood out prominently. Her breathing was painful to see or hear. Van Helsing's face grew set as marble and his eyebrows converged till they almost touched over his nose. Lucy lay motionless and did not seem to have strength to speak, so for a while we were all silent. Then Van Helsing beckoned to me and we went gently out of the room. The instant we had closed the door he stepped quickly along the passage to the next door which was open. Then he pulled me quickly in with him and closed the door. My God! he said. This is dreadful. There is no time to be lost. She will die for sheer want of blood to keep the heart's action as it should be. There must be transfusion of blood at once. Is it you or me? I am younger and stronger, Professor. It must be me. Then get ready at once. I will bring up my bag. I am prepared. I went downstairs with him, and as we were going there was a knock on the whole door. When we reached the hall the maid had just opened the door and Arthur was stepping quickly in. He rushed up to me saying in an eager whisper, Jack, I was so anxious I read between the lines of your letter, and have been in an agony. The dad was better, so I ran down here to see for myself. Is not that the gentleman Dr. Van Helsing? I am so thankful to you, sir, for coming. When first the Professor's eye had lit upon him he had been angry at his interruption at such a time, but now, as he took in his stalwart proportions and recognized the strong young manhood which seemed to emanate from him, his eyes gleamed. Without a pause he said to him gravely as he held out his hand. Sir, you have come in time. You are the lover of our dear Miss. She is bad, very, very bad. Name I, child, do not go like that, for he suddenly grew pale and sat down in a chair almost fainting. You are to help her. You can do more than any that live, and your courage is your best help. What can I do? asked Arthur Horsley. Tell me, and I shall do it. My life is hers, and I would give the last drop of my blood in my body for her. The Professor has a strongly humorous side, and I could from the old knowledge detect a trace of its origin in his answer. My young sir, I do not ask so much as that. Not the last. What shall I do? There was a fire in his eyes, and his open nostril quivered with intent. Van Helsing slapped him on the shoulder. Come, he said, you are a man, and it is a man we want. You are better than me, better than my friend John. Arthur looked bewildered, and the Professor went on by explaining in a kindly way, young miss is bad, very bad. She wants blood, and blood she must have or die. My friend John and I have consulted, and we were about to perform what we call transfusion of blood, to transfer from full veins of one to the empty veins which pine for him. John was to give his blood, as he is the more young and strong than me. Here Arthur took my hand and wrung it hard in silence. But now you are here. You are more good than us, old or young, who toil much in the world of thought. Our nerves are not so calm and our blood not so bright as yours. Arthur turned to him and said, if you only knew how glad I would die for her you would understand. He stopped with a sort of choke in his voice. Good boy! said Van Helsing, they're not so far off. You will be happy that you have done all for her you love. Come now and be silent. You shall kiss her once before it is done, but then you must go, and you must leave at my sign. No word to Madame. You must know how it is with her. There must be no shock. Any knowledge of this would be one. Come. We all went up to Lucy's room. Arthur by direction remained outside. Lucy turned her head and looked at us, but said nothing. She was not asleep, but she was simply too weak to make the effort. Her eyes spoke to us, that was all. Van Helsing took some things out of his bag and laid them out on a little table out of sight. Then he mixed a narcotic and coming over to the bed so cheerly. Now, little miss, here is your medicine. Drink it off like a good child. Say I lived you so that to swallow is easy. Yes. She had made the effort with success. It astonished me how long the drug took to act. This, in fact, marked the extent of her weakness. The time seemed endless until sleep began to flicker in her eyelids. At last, however, the narcotic began to manifest its potency, and she fell into a deep sleep. When the professor was satisfied, he called Arthur into the room and bade him strip off his coat. Then he added, You may take that one little kiss whilst I bring over the table. Fran-John, help to me. So neither of us looked whilst she bent over her. Van Helsing, turning to me, said, He is so young and strong and of blood so pure that we need not defibrinate it. Then with swiftness but with absolute method, Van Helsing performed the operation. As the transfusion went on, something like life seemed to come back to poor Lucy's cheeks, and through Arthur's growing pallor the joy of his face seemed absolutely to shine. For a bit I began to grow anxious for the loss of blood was telling on Arthur, strong man as he was. It gave me an idea of what a terrible strain Lucy's sister must have undergone that what weakened Arthur only partially restored her. But the professor's face was set, and he stood, watch in hand, and with his eyes fixed now on the patient and now on Arthur, I could hear my own heart beat. Presently he said in a soft voice, Do not stir an instant. It is enough. You attend him, I will look to her. When all was over I could see how much Arthur was weakened. I dressed the wound and took his arm to bring him away, when Van Helsing spoke without turning around. The man seems to have eyes in the back of his head. The brave lover, I think, deserve another kiss, which he shall have presently. And as he had now finished his operation he adjusted the pillow to the patient's head. As he did so the narrow black velvet band, which she seems always to wear round her throat, buckled with an old diamond buckle which her lover had given her, was dragged a little up, and showed a red mark on her throat. Arthur did not notice it, but I could hear the deep hiss of indrawn breath which is one of Van Helsing's ways of betraying emotion. He said nothing at the moment, but turned to me saying, Now take down our brave young lover, give him of the port wine, and let him lie down awhile. He must then go home and rest, sleep much and eat much, that he may be recruited of what he has so given to his love. He must not stay here. Hold a moment. I may take it, sir, that you are anxious of result, then bring it with you, that in all ways the operation is successful. You have saved her life this time, and you can go home and rest easy in mind, that all that can be is. I shall tell her all when she is well. She shall love you none the less for what you have done. Goodbye. When Arthur had gone, I went back to the room. Lucy was sleeping gently, but her breathing was stronger. I could see the counterpane move as her breast heaved. By the bedside sat Van Helsing, looking at her indently. The velvet band again covered the red mark. I asked the professor in a whisper, What do you make of the mark on her throat? What do you make of it? I have not examined it yet, I answered, and then there proceeded to loose the band. Just over the external jugular vein there were two punctures, not large but not wholesome looking. There was no sign of disease, but the edges were white and worn looking as if by some triteration. It occurred to me that this wound or whatever it was might be the means of that manifest loss of blood, but I abandoned the idea as soon as formed, for such a thing could not be. The whole bed would have been drenched to a scarlet with the blood which the girl must have lost to leave such a pallor as she had before the transfusion. Well, said Van Helsing, well, said I, I can make nothing of it. The professor stood up. I must go back to Amsterdam to-night. He said, There are books and things there which I want. You must remain here all the night, and you must not let your sight pass from her. Shall I have a nurse? I asked. We are the best nurses, you and I. You keep watch all night. See that she is well fed, and that nothing disturbs her. You must not sleep all the night. Later on we can sleep you and I. I shall be back as soon as possible. Then we may begin. May begin, I said. What on earth do you mean? We shall see, he answered as he hurried out. He came back a moment later and put his head inside the door and said with a warning finger held up. Remember, she is in your charge. If you leave her, and harm befall, you shall not sleep easy hereafter. Dr. Syrod's diary continued. 8 September. I sat up all night with Lucy. The opiate worked itself off towards dusk, and she waked naturally. She looked a different being from what she had been before the operation. Her spirits even were good, and she was full of a happy vivacity, though I could see evidences of the absolute prostration which she had undergone. When I told Mrs. Westernrod that Dr. Van Helsing had directed that I should sit up with her, she almost poo-pooed the idea, pointing out her daughter's renewed strength and excellent spirits. I was firm, however, and made preparations for my long vigil. When her maid had prepared her for the night, I came in, having in the meantime had supper, and took a seat by the bedside. She did not in any way make objection, but looked at me gratefully whenever I caught her eye. After a long spell she seemed sinking off to sleep, but with an effort seemed to pull herself together and shook it off. This was repeated several times, with greater effort and with shorter pauses as time moved on. It was apparent that she did not want to sleep, so I tackled the subject at once. You do not want to go to sleep? No, I am afraid. Afraid to go to sleep? Why so? It is the boon we all crave for. Ah, not of you or like me. If sleep was to you a presage of horror. A presage of horror? What on earth do you mean? I don't know. Oh, I don't know. And that is what is so terrible, all this weakness comes to me in sleep until I dread the very thought. But, my dear, you may sleep tonight. I am here watching you, and I can promise that nothing will happen. Ah, I can trust you. I seized the opportunity and said, I promise you that if I see any evidence of bad dreams I will wake you at once. You will? Oh, will you really? How good you are to me. Then I will sleep. And almost at the word she gave a deep sigh of relief, and sank back asleep. All night long I watched by her. She never stirred, but slept on and on in a deep, tranquil, life-giving, health-giving sleep. Her lips were slightly parted, and a breast rose and fell with the regularity of a pendulum. There was a smile on her face, and it was evident that no bad dreams had come to disturb her peace of mind. In the early morning her maid came, and I left her in her care, and took myself back home, for I was anxious about many things. I sent short wire to Van Helsing and to Arthur, telling them the excellent result of the operation. My own work, with its manifold rears, took me all day to clear off. It was dark when I was able to inquire about my zuofagus patient. The report was good. He had been quite quiet for the past day and night. A telegram came from Van Helsing at Amsterdam whilst I was at dinner, suggesting that I should be at Hillingham to-night, as it might be well to be at hand, and stating that he was leaving by the night-mail and would join me early in the morning. 9 September. I was pretty tired and worn out when I got to Hillingham. For two nights I had hardly a wink of sleep, and my brain was beginning to feel that numbness which marks cerebral exhaustion. Lucy was up and in cheerful spirits, and she shook hands with me. She looked sharply in my face, and said, No sitting up to-night for you. You are worn out, and I am quite well again. Indeed, I am. And if there is to be any sitting up, it is I who will sit up with you. I would not argue the point, but went and had my supper. Lucy came with me, and, enlivened by her charming presence, I made an excellent meal and a couple of glasses of the more than excellent port. Then Lucy took me upstairs and showed me a room next to her own, where cozy fire was burning. Now, she said, You must stay here. I shall leave this door open in my door, too. You can lie on the sofa, for I know that nothing would induce any of you doctors to go to bed whilst there is a patient above the horizon. If I want anything, I shall call out, and you can come to me at once. I could not but acquiesce, for I was dog-tired, and could not have sat up if I tried. So on her renewing her promise to call me if she should want anything, I lay on the sofa, and forgot about everything. Lucy Weston Rose Diary 9 September. I feel so happy to-night. I have been so miserably weak that to be able to think and move about is like feeling sunshine after a long spell of east wind out of a steel sky. Somehow Arthur feels very, very close to me. I seem to feel his presence warm about me. I suppose it is that sickness and weakness are selfish things and turn our inner eyes and sympathy on ourselves whilst health and strength give love rain and in thought and feeling he can wander where he wills. I know where my thoughts are. If Arthur only knew, my dear your ears must tingle as you sleep as mine do waking. O, the blissful rest of last night, how I slept with that dear good Dr. Seward watching me, and to-night I shall not fear to sleep, since he is close at hand and within call. Thank everybody for being so good to me. Thank God! Good night, Arthur. Dr. Seward's Diary 10 September. I was conscious of the professor's hand on my head and started awake all in a second. That is one of the things that we learn in an asylum at any rate. And how was our patient? Well, when I left her, or rather when she left me, I answered, Come, let us see, he said, and together we went into the room. The blind was down and I went over to raise it gently whilst Van Helsing stepped with his soft cat-like tread over to the bed. As I raised the blind and the morning sunlight flooded the room, I heard the professor's low hiss of inspiration at knowing its rarity, a deadly fear shot through my heart. As I passed over he moved back, and his exclamation of horror, gotten himl, needed no enforcement from his agonised face. He raised his hand and pointed to the bed, and his iron face was drawn and ashen-white. I felt my knees begin to tremble. There on the bed, seemingly in a swoon, they poor Lucy more horribly white and one looking than ever. Even the lips were white, and the gums seemed to have shrunken back from the teeth, as we sometimes see in a corpse after a prolonged illness. Van Helsing raised his foot to stamp in anger, but the instinct of his life and all the long years of habit stood to him, and he put it down again softly. Quick, he said, bring the brandy. I flew to the dining-room and returned with the decanter. He wedded the poor white lips with it, and together he rubbed the palm and wrist and heart. He felt her heart, and after a few moments of agonising suspense said, it is not too late. It beats, though, but feebly. All our work is undone. We must begin again. There is no Arthur here now. I have to call on you yourself this time, friend John. As he spoke he was dipping into his bag and producing the instruments for transfusion. I had taken off my coat and rolled up my shirt-sleeve. There was no possibility of an opiate just at present, and no need of one. And so, without a moment's delay, we began the operation. After a time it did not seem a short time, either, for the draining away of one's blood, and no matter how willingly it be given, is a terrible feeling. Van Helsing held up a warning finger. Do not stir, he said, but I fear that with growing strength she may wake, and that would make danger oh so much danger. But I shall precaution take. I shall give hypodermic injection of morphia. He proceeded then swiftly and deftly to carry out his intent. The effect on Lucy was not bad, for the faint seemed to merge subtly into the narcotic sleep. It was with a feeling of personal pride that I could see a faint tinge of colour steel back into the pallid cheeks and lips. No man knows, till he experiences it, what it is to feel his own life-blood drawn away into the veins of the woman he loves. The Professor watched me critically. That will do, he said. Already, I remonstrated, you took a great deal more from Art, to which he smiled a sad sort of smile as he replied. He is her lover, her fiancée. You have work, much work to do for her and for others, and the present will suffice. When we stopped the operation he attended to Lucy, whilst I applied digital pressure to my own incision. I laid down whilst I waited his leisure to attend me, for I felt faint and a little sick. By and by he bound up my wound, and sent me downstairs to get a glass of wine for myself. As I was leaving the room he came after me, and half whispered, Mind, nothing must be said of this. If our young lover should turn up unexpected as before, no word to him, it would at once frighten him and injealous him, too. There must be none. So, when I came back he looked at me carefully and then said, You are not much the worse. Go into the room and lie on your sofa and rest a while, then have much breakfast, and come here to me. I followed out his orders, for I knew how right and wise they were. I had done my part, and now my next duty was to keep up my strength. I felt very weak, and in the weakness lost something of the amazement at what had occurred. I fell asleep on the sofa, however, wondering, over and over again, how Lucy had made such a retrograde movement, and how she could have been drained of so much blood, with no sign anywhere to show for it. I think I must have continued my wonder in my dreams for sleeping and waking, my thoughts always came back to the little punctures in her throat and the ragged, exhausted appearance of their edges, tiny though they were. Lucy slept well into the day, and when she woke she was fairly well and strong, though not nearly so much as the day before. When Van Helsing had seen her, he went out for a walk, leaving me in charge with strict injunctions that I was not to leave her for a moment. I could hear his voice in the hall, asking the way to the nearest telegraph office. Lucy chatted with me freely, and seemed quite unconscious that anything had happened. I tried to keep her amused and interested. When her mother came up to see her, she did not seem to notice any change whatever, but said to me gratefully, We owe you so much, Dr. Seward, for all you have done, but you really must now take care not to overwork yourself. You are looking pale yourself. You want a wife to nurse and to look after you a bit. That you do. As she spoke, Lucy turned crimson, though it was only momentarily for her poor, wasted veins could not stand for long such an unwanted drain to the head. The reaction came an excessive pallor as she turned imploring eyes to me. I smiled and nodded and laid my finger on my lips. With a sigh she sank back amid her pillows. Van Helsing returned in a couple of hours and presently said to me, Now you go home, and eat much and drink enough. Make yourself strong. I stay here to-night, and I shall sit up with the little miss myself. You and I must watch the case, and we must have none other to know. I have grave reasons. No, do not ask them. Think what you will. Do not fear to think even the most not probable. Good night. In the hall, two of the maids came to me, and asked if they or either of them might not sit up with Miss Lucy. They implored me to let them, and when I said it was Dr. Van Helsing's wish that either he or I should sit up, they asked me quite patiously to intercede with the foreign gentleman. I was much touched by their kindness. Perhaps it is because I am weak at present, and perhaps because it was on Lucy's account that the devotion was manifested. For over and over again I have seen similar instances of women's kindness. I got back here in time for a great dinner, went my rounds all well, and set this down whilst waiting for sleep. It is coming. 11 September. This afternoon I went over to Hillingham, Van Van Helsing in excellent spirits, and Lucy much better. Shortly after I had arrived a big parcel from abroad came for the professor. He opened it with much impressment, assumed of course, and showed a great bundle of white flowers. These are for you, Miss Lucy, he said. For me? Oh, Dr. Van Helsing. Yes, my dear, but not for you to play with. These are medicines. Here Lucy made a rye face. No, but they are not to take in decoction or nauseous form, so you need not to snub that so charming nose, or I shall point out to my friend Arthur what woes he might have to endure, seeing so much beauty that he so loves so much distort. Aha, my pretty miss, that brings the so nice nose all straight again. This is medicinal, but you do not know how. I put him in your window. I make pretty wreath, and hang him round your neck, so that you sleep well. Oh, yes, they like to load his flower, make your trouble forgotten. It smells so like the waters of leaf, and of that fountain of youth that the conquistadors sought in the floor does, and to find him all too late. Whilst he was speaking Lucy had been examining the flowers and smelling them. Now she threw them down saying with half laughter and half disgust. Oh, Professor, I believe you are only putting up a joke on me. Why, these flowers are only common garlic. To my surprise Van Helsing rose up and said with all his stunness his iron jaw set and his bushy eyebrows meeting. No trifling with me. I never jest. There is a grim purpose in all I do, and I warn you that you do not thwart me. Take care, for the sake of others, if not for your own. Then, seeing poor Lucy scared, as she might well be, he went on more gently. Oh, little miss, my dear, do not fear me. I only do for your good, but there is much virtue to you in those so common flowers. See, I place them myself in your room. I make myself the wreath that you are to wear. But hush, no telling to others that make so inquisitive questions. We must obey, and silence is a part of obedience, and obedience is to bring you strong and well into loving arms that wait for you. Now sit awhile. Come with me, friend John, and you shall help me deck the room with my garlic, which is all the way from Harlem, where my friend Van Der Poel raised herb in his glass-houses all the year. I had to telegraph yesterday that they would not have been here. We went into the room, taking the flowers with us. The professor's actions were certainly odd, and not to be found in any pharmacopia that I ever heard of. First he fastened up the windows and latched them securely. Next, taking a handful of the flowers, he rubbed them all over the sashes as though to ensure that every whiff of air that might get in would be laden with the garlic smell. Then, with the wisp, he rubbed all over the jam of the door, above, below, and at each side, and round the fireplace in the same way. It all seemed grotesque to me, and presently I said, Well, Professor, I know you always have a reason for what you do, but this certainly puzzles me. It is well that we have no skeptic here, or he would say that you are working some spell to keep out an evil spirit. Perhaps I am, he answered quietly, as he began to make the wreath which Lucy was to wear round her neck. We then waited whilst Lucy made her toilet for the night, and when she was in bed he came and himself fixed the wreath of garlic round her neck, the last words he said to her were, Take care, you do not disturb it, and even if the room feel closed, do not, to-night, open the window or the door. I promise, said Lucy, and thank you both a thousand times for all your kindness to me. Oh, what have I done to be blessed with such friends? As we left the house in my fly, which was waiting, then Helsing said, To-night I can sleep in peace and sleep I want, two nights of travel, much reading in the day between, and much anxiety on the day to follow, and a night to sit up without to wink. Tomorrow in the morning early you call for me, and we come together to see our pretty miss so much more strong for my spell which I have worked. Ho-ho! He seemed so confident that I, remembering my own confidence two nights before, and with the baneful result, felt awe and vague terror. It must have been my weakness that made me hesitate to tell it to my friend, but I felt it all the more, like unshed tears. End of Chapter 10, Recording by Corinne LePage, Chapter 11 of Dracula, by Bram Stoker. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Corinne LePage, Chapter 11. Lucy Weston Rose 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 to-night, and I can go to sleep without fear. I shall not mind any flapping outside the window. O, the terrible struggle that I have had against sleep so often of late! The pain of the sleeplessness, or the pain of the fear of sleep, 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 a-nightly, and brings nothing but sweet dreams! Well, here I am to-night, hoping for sleep, and lying like Ophelia in the play with virgin crants and maid-instruments. I never liked garlic before, but to-night it is delightful. There is peace in its smell. I feel sleep coming already. Good night, 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's 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 the fresh feeling of early autumn seemed like a completion of nature's annual work. The leaves were turning to all kinds of beautiful colours, but had not yet begun to drop from the trees. When we entered, we met Mrs. Westernera coming out of the morning-room. She was always an early riser. She greeted us warmly and said, You'll be glad to know that Lucy's 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 it she answered, You must not take all the credit to your self-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 strong smelling flowers about everywhere, and she had actually a bunch of them around 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 would be pleased with her, I am sure. She moved off into her boudoir, where she usually breakfast early. As she had spoken I watched the Professor's face and saw it turn ashen gray. He had been able to restrain his self-command whilst the poor lady was present for he knew her state, and how mischievous her shock would be. He actually smiled on her as he held the door open 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 some 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 so beset? Is their fate among us still sent down from the pagan world of old that such things must be, and in such a way? This poor mother, all unknowing and all for the best as she think, does such thing as lose her daughter body and soul. We must not tell her. We must not even warn her. Then 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. If matters not, we fight him all the same. We went to the whole door for his bag and together we went up to Lucy's room. Once again I drew up the blind while Van Helsing went towards the bed. This time he did not start as he looked on the poor face with the same awful wax and 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 a 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 shed-sleeve. Again the operation, again the narcotic, again some return of colour 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 odour 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 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 the 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 asleep. 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 Harlem. Tonight Dr. Van Helsing is going away, as he has to be for a day in Amsterdam. But I need not be watched. I'm well enough to be left alone. Thank God for Mother's sake and dear authors 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 bows or bats or something napped almost angrily against the windowpains. The Paul Moll Gazette, 18 September, The Escaped Wolf, parallel set venture of our interviewer, interview with the keeper in the zoological gardens. After many inquiries and almost as many refusals and perpetually using the words Paul Moll Gazette as a sort of talisman, I managed to find the keeper of the section of the zoological gardens in which the wolf department is included. Thomas Bielder 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 hospital folk, elderly, without children, and if the specimen I enjoyed of the 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 glared and he had later's pipe, he said, Now sir, you can go on and ask me what you want. You'll excuse me for refusing to talk of professional subjects or for meals. I give the walls and the jackals and the hyenas in our section their tea before I begin to ask them questions. How do you mean ask them questions? I queried, wishful to get him into a talkative humour. Ating him over to Edward Apoli's one way, scratching up their ears as another, when the gents as flushes want a bit of show off to their girls. I don't much, so mind the first, dating over to Apoli for our chucks in their dinner. But I wait till they've had their sherry and coffee, so to speak, before I try to air-scratch and mind you. He added philosophically. There's a deal of the same nature in us as in-dem-dairy animals. Here's you coming and asking me questions about my business, and I'd add grumpy like that only for your blooming-earth quid. I'd have seen you build first before I answer. Not even when you asked me sarcastic like if I'd like you to ask the superintendent if you might ask me questions. But how defense did I tell you to go to El? You did. And when you'd said you'd report me for using a obscene language that was it me over to Ed, but the earthquake made that all right. I weren't going to fight, so I waited for the food and did with my owl, as the wolves and lions and tigers does. But, Lord love your art, now that the old oomena stuck a chunk of her tea-cake in me and rinsed me out with her bloomin' odd teapot, and I've lit up, you may scratch my ears for all your wart and you won't get even a growl out of me. Drive along with your questions, I know what you're coming at, that-ear-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, Governor. This year is about the old story, that-ear wolf, what we called Bersicker, was one of the three gray ones that came from Nora Way to Jamracks, 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 him wanting to get out, nor any other animal into place. But, dare, you can't trust wolves no more, nor women. Don't you mind him, sir? Broke-in Mrs. Tom with a cheery laugh. He's gone minding the animal so long that bless if he ain't like no wolf himself, but there ain't no harm in him. Well, sir, it was about two hours after feeding yesterday when I first hear my disturbance. I was making up a litter in a monkey house for a young puma which is ill, but when I heard the yelpin and owl-in, I came way straight. Terror-wise Bersicker, a terror-in like a matting at the bars as if he wanted to get out. There wasn't much people about to-day, and close at hand there was only one man, and told Tin Chap, with a oak nose and a pointed beard, with a few white ears running through it. He had a hard-cold look and red eyes, and I took a sort of misluck to him, for it seemed as if it was him, as they was irritated at. He had white-kid gloves on his ends, and he pointed at the animals to me and says, Keeper, do these wolves seem upset at something? Maybe it's you, says I, for I did not like the ears as he gave herself. He didn't get angry as I hoped 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, he says. Oh, yes, they would, says I, imitating of him. They always likes a bone or two to clean their teeth about tea-time, which you as a beg-full. Well, it was nothing, but when the animals see us at talking, they lay down, and when I went over to Bersicker, he let me stroke his ears same as ever, that their man came over, and bled, but if he didn't put his hand and stroke old wolf's ears too. Take care, says I, Bersicker is quick. Never mind, he says, I'm used to him. Are you into business yourself? I says, taking over my yet for a man who drives in wolves and set her arse a good friend to keepers. No, says he, not exactly in the business, but I have made pets of several, and with that he lifts his at as polite as a lord, and walks away. Old Bersicker kept a look and utter him after he was well out of sight, and then went to lay down in a corner, and wouldn't come out, dull evening. Well, last night, as soon as the moon was up, the wolves here all became owl-in. There weren't nothing for them to owl at. There weren't no one near, except someone that was evidently a cull in a dog somewhere's out back to Gardings under Park Road. Once or twice they went out to see that owl was right, and it was, and then the owl-ing stopped. Just before twelve o'clock I just took a look around before turning in, and bussed me, but when I came 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 searching. Did anyone else see anything? One of our gardeners was a common home about that time from Harmony, when he sees a big grey dog coming out through the guarding-edges, hardly so he says, but I don't give much for it myself for if he did. He never said a word about it to his missus when he got home, and it was only after the escape of the wolf was made known, and we had been up all night to hunt in at a park for Bersicker that he had remembered seeing anything. My own belief is that the Harmony had got into his head. Now, Mr. Bilda, 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 how you'd be satisfied with the teary. 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, don't, sir, I account for it this way. It seems to me that your 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 the bandinage with the worthy Thomas, but I thought I knew a sure way to his heart, so I said, Now, Mr. Bilda, 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, you are, sir, he said briskly. You'll excuse me, I know, for a cheffin' of ye, but the old woman here winked at me, which was as much as telling me to go on. But I never, said the old lady. My opinion is this, that your wolf is a riding of… somewheres. The gardener, what didn't remember, said he was a galloping northward faster than the horse could go, but I don't believe him for, you see, sir, wolves don't gallop, no more nor dog does. They're not being built that way. Wolves is fine things in a storybook, and I'd I say, when they get some pecks and does be chivvy and something, that's more a fear than they is. They can make a devil of a noise and chup it up, whatever it is. The Lord bless you, in real life a wolf is only a low creature, not have so clever a bolt as a good dog, and not half a quarter so much fight in him. This one ain't been used to fighting or even providing for himself, more like he's somewhere in the park guiding and a cheffin' of, if he thinks at all, wondering where he is to get his breakfast from, or maybe he's got down some area and is in a cold cellar. My eye won't some cook get a rum start when he sees his green eyes are shining out at the dark. If he can't get food, he's bound to look for it, and may happy he may chance to light on a butcher's shop in time. If he doesn't, then some nurse maid goes a walk on earth with a soldier leavein' dain-fenton to permambulator. Well, then, I shouldn't be surprised if the census is one babid less. That's all. I was handing him the half-sovereign when something came bobbing against the window. Mr. Bill disface doubled in its natural length with surprise. God bless me, he said. If there ain't old Bercerca come back by yourself. He went to the door and opened it. The most unnecessary proceeding it seemed to me. I have always thought that a wild anima 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 builder nor his wife thought any more of the wolf than I should of a dog. The animal itself was as peaceful and well-behaved as that father of all-picture wolves, Red Radding Hood's quantum friend, whilst moving her confidence in masquerade. The whole scene was an unutterable mixture of comedy and pathos. The wicked wolf, that for half a day had paralysed a London and set all the children in the 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 Builder examined him all over with the most tender solicitude, and when he had finished with his penitent, said, Dear, 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. He's been a-getting over some bloomin' wall or udder. It's a shame that people are allowed to top their walls with broken bottles. This here's what comes of it. Come along, bur-sicker. 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 fat and 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 to many visits to Lucy, had fallen, certainly, into a rear. Suddenly the door was burst open and enrushed my patient with his face distorted with passion. I was thunderstruck for such a thing as a patient getting out of his own accord into the superintendant's study is almost unknown. Without an instant pause 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 and he was sprawling on his back on the floor. My wrist bled freely and quite a little pool trickled onto 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 attendance 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 attendance quite placidly, simply repeating over and over again, the blood is life, the blood is life. I cannot afford to lose blood at present. I have lost too much of late for my physical good and the prolonged strain of Lucy's illness and its horrible phases is telling on me. I am overexcited and wary 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. Seventeen September. Do not fail to be at healing him tonight. If not watching ausid time, frequently visit and see that flowers are as placed, very important. Do not fail. Shall be visio as soon as possible after arrival. Dr. Seward's diary. Eighteen September. Just off for 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 the 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. Seventeen 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 sleepwalking 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. Seawood was in the next room, as Dr. Van Helsing said he would be, so that I might have called him. I tried to go to sleep but could not. Then there came to me that old fear of sleep, and I determined to keep awake. Perversely sleep would try to come 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 baffling 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 came in and sat by me. She said to me even more sweetly and softly than her want. I wasn't easy 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 eye 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 low 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 fright and struggled up into a sitting posture and clutched wildly at anything that would help her. Amongst the other things she clutched the wreath of flowers that Dr. Van Helsing insisted on my wearing around 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 on 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 around 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 seemed 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, and the dogs all round the neighbourhood 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 they over me on the bed, they screamed out. The wind rushed in through the broken window, and the door slammed too. 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 also frightened and nervous that I directed them to go to the dining-room, and have each 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 when 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 londonum, and looking on the sideboard I found that 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, say, for the sleeping servants, whom someone 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 drought from the window, and the lights burn blue and dim. What am I to do? God shield me from the 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. End of CHAPTER XI CHAPTER XII. 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 only to 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 bed 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 drawn tight around us? Was it indeed a house of death which I had come? Too late. I knew 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 swift lead-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 lost 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' room, 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 shatters, found four seven women lying on the floor. There was no need to think them dead for their sturturous breathing and the accurate smell of london in the room left no doubt as to their condition. Then 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's 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 draught 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 Paul 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 and 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 to 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 an 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 that 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. They 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 whole 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. Humwood. I bid 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, a clean forgot all about him. I never saw, in all my experience, the Professor work in such a deadly earnest. I knew, as he knew, that it was a stand-up fight with death, and in 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 vigor. Presently we both began to be conscious that the heat was beginning to be of some effect. Lucy's heart beat a trial for more audibly to the stethoscope, and her lungs had a perceptible movement. Van Helsing's face almost beamed, 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 around 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 shadows had been opened, but the blinds were already down, without obedience to the etiquette of death, which the British women 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 the courage to submit. What are we to do for someone who will open his veins for her? What's the matter with me, anyhow? The voice came from a sofa across the room, and its tones brought relief and joy to my heart, for they were those of Quincy 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, Quincy Morris, and rushed towards him without stretched hands. What brought you here? I cried as our hands met. I guess art's the cause. He handed me a telegram. Have not heard from Seward for three days, and I'm terribly anxious. Cannot leave. Father, still in same condition, send me word how loose he is. Do not delay. Holmwood. I think I came just in the nick of time. You know you only have 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 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 to her veins, her body did not respond to the treatment as well as the other occasions. Her struggle back to life was something frightful to see and hear. However, the action of both hot and lungs improved, and Van Helsing made a subcutaneous injection of morphia as before, and with good effect. Her faint became a profound slumber. The Professor watched whilst I went downstairs with Quincy Morris, and sent one of the mates to pay off one of the cab men who were waiting. I left Quincy 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 notepaper in his hand. He had evidently read it, and was thinking it over when 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 stood 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 terrible 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 it 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. Westerner had disease of the heart, and that 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, were thought of! Truly miss Lucy, if she be sad in the foes that beset her, is at least happy in the fronts that love 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 Quincy Morris, with a telegram for Arthur, telling him that Mrs. Westerner 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 heard 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, Quincy 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 pudding, his finger to his lips, I gathered that he expected her to wake before long, and was afraid of forestalling nature. So I went down to Quincy 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 I have 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 fellow he is, I can see that. I 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, no, 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 it not 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 that not 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've not seen anything pulled down so quick since I was on the Pampas, and had a man that I was fond of go to grass all in the night. One of those big bats that they call vampires had got 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 torch 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, see a word, that that poor pretty creature that we all love has had put into her veins within that time the blood of four strong men. Men aloft 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. But, I said, is the crooks. Van Helsing is simply frantic about it, and I am at my wit's 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. Quincy held out his hand. Count me in, he said. You and the Dutchmen 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 produce the paper that Van Helsing had given me to read. The careful Professor had replaced it where had come from, lest on waking she should be alarmed. Her eye 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 that meant. That she had realized the full of 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 dose. 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 was 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. 19th 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 an intense to watch, and we never left her for a moment unattended. Quincy 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 Paul 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 thus 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 re-telegraphed for him. Quincy 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 colour 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 cheerly as he could, so that the best was made of everything. It was 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 we'll end our watching, for the shock has been too great, and the poor child cannot rally. God help us all. Letter. Nina Harker to Lucy Westenra. Unopened by her. Seventeen September. My dearest Lucy, it seems un-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 a chicken or child, all are gone, and in my will I have left you everything. I cried, Lucy dear, as Jonathan in the old man clasped hands. Our evening was a very, very happy one. So here we are, installed in this beautiful old house, 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, calling and calling 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 all together, 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 a 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 and 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 all blessings on you. Yours, Mina Hawker. Report from Patrick Hennessey, M.D., MRC, L.K., Q.C.P.I., etc., etc., to John Seward, M.D. 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 but 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 at 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, Lord bless you, sir. I wouldn't mind what was said to me in a bloomin' madhouse, or a pity ye in the governor for heaven 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 feats 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 card which had passed before coming down the road, having on it some great wooden boxes. The men were wiping the 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 you 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 terrible 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 straight waist-coast on him, he began to shout, I'll frustrate them, they shan't rob me, I'll frustrate them, 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 powdered room. One of the attendants, Hardy, had a finger broken. However, I said 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 rein 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 us another reason for their defeat, the extraordinary state of drought to which they had been reduced by the dustiness of their occupation and the reprehensible distance from the scene of their labours of any place of public entertainment. I quite understood their drift, and after a stiff glass of grog, or rather more of the same, and with each a silvering in hand, they made light of the attack and swore that they would never encounter a worse madman any day for the pleasure of meeting so bloom and good a bloke, as your correspondent. I took their names and addresses in case they might be needed. Their eyes follows, Jack's mullet of Dudding's rent, King George's Road, Great Wall Wolf, and Thomas Snelling, Peter Folly's Row, Guide Cod, Bethanel Green. They are both in the employment of Harrison Sun's moving and shipment company, Orange Masters 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 Hennessy. Letter. Mina Harker, to Lucy Westinra. 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 is 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 to which people of our modest bringing up is worth beyond the dream of avarice. But Jonathan feels it on another count. He says the amount of responsibility which it puts on him makes him very nervous. He begins to doubt himself. I tried to tear him up, and my belief in him helps him to have 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 so Jonathan tries me, and I have no one here that I can confide in. I dread coming up to London as we must do the day after to-morrow, 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 the 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 Hawker. Dr. Seward's Diary 20 September Only resolution and habit can make 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 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 you 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 round the room to see that all was as it should be. I could see that the professor had carried out in his 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 stutterously, 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 Canaan teeth looked longer and sharper than the rest. I sat down by her, and presently she moved un-easily. At the same moment there came a sort of dull flapping of boffeting at the window. I went over to it softly, and peeped out by the corner of the blind. There was a full moon-light, and I could see that the noise was made by a great bat which wheeled round, 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 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 stutterous breathing, she put the flowers from her, but that when she waked she clutched them close. There was no possibility of making any mistake about this, for in the long hours that followed she had many spells of sleeping and waking repeated both actions many times. At six o'clock Van Helsing came to relieve me. Arthur had then fallen into a dose, and he mercifully let him sleep on. When he saw Lucy's face I could hear the hissing in-draw of his 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 cankerchief from her throat. As he did so he started back, and I could hear his ejaculation, mine gut, 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 different. 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 shadows he thought he was late and expressed his fear. I showed 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 would be best and easiest for her. When we came to 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 his usual sunny ripples. When we came into the room she opened her eyes and seeing him whispered softly, Arthur, oh my love, I'm 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 a 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 sturdierous. The mouth opened and the pale gums drawn back made the teeth look longer and sharper than ever, in a sort of sleep waking, vague unconscious way she opened her eyes, which were now dull and hard at once, and she 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 an 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 had never thought he could have possessed and actually hurled him across the room. Not for your life, he said, not for your living souls 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, asked at Van Helsing, and we saw a spasm as of rage flit like a shadow of a face, and the sharp teeth champed together. Then her eyes closed, and she breathed heavily. Very short 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 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 stutterous 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 ever. Some change had come over her body. Death had given back a 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. Without her dying whilst she slept, and sleeping when she died. I stood beside Van Helsing and said, Oh 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. End of Chapter 12 Recording by Corinne LePage