{"id":41,"date":"2019-02-25T20:46:59","date_gmt":"2019-02-25T20:46:59","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.ryerson.ca\/dracula\/chapter\/dracula-17\/"},"modified":"2019-02-26T01:27:38","modified_gmt":"2019-02-26T01:27:38","slug":"dracula-17","status":"publish","type":"chapter","link":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/dracula\/chapter\/dracula-17\/","title":{"raw":"Chapter 17 - Dr. Seward's Diary\u2014cont.","rendered":"Chapter 17 – Dr. Seward’s Diary\u2014cont."},"content":{"raw":"\r\n
\r\n\r\nWhen we arrived at the Berkely Hotel, Van Helsing found a\r\ntelegram waiting for him.\r\n\r\n\"Am coming up by train. Jonathan at Whitby. Important news. Mina\r\nHarker.\"\r\n\r\nThe Professor was delighted. \"Ah, that wonderful Madam Mina,\" he\r\nsaid, \"pearl among women! She arrive, but I cannot stay. She must\r\ngo to your house, friend John. You must meet her at the station.\r\nTelegraph her en route so that she may be prepared.\"\r\n\r\nWhen the wire was dispatched he had a cup of tea. Over it he\r\ntold me of a diary kept by Jonathan Harker when abroad, and gave me\r\na typewritten copy of it, as also of Mrs. Harker's diary at Whitby.\r\n\"Take these,\" he said,\"and study them well. When I have returned\r\nyou will be master of all the facts, and we can then better enter\r\non our inquisition. Keep them safe, for there is in them much of\r\ntreasure. You will need all your faith, even you who have had such\r\nan experience as that of today. What is here told,\" he laid his\r\nhand heavily and gravely on the packet of papers as he spoke, \"may\r\nbe the beginning of the end to you and me and many another, or it\r\nmay sound the knell of the Un-Dead who walk the earth. Read all, I\r\npray you, with the open mind, and if you can add in any way to the\r\nstory here told do so, for it is all important. You have kept a\r\ndiary of all these so strange things, is it not so? Yes! Then we\r\nshall go through all these together when we meet.\" He then made\r\nready for his departure and shortly drove off to Liverpool Street.\r\nI took my way to Paddington, where I arrived about fifteen minutes\r\nbefore the train came in.\r\n\r\nThe crowd melted away, after the bustling fashion common to\r\narrival platforms, and I was beginning to feel uneasy, lest I might\r\nmiss my guest, when a sweet-faced, dainty looking girl stepped up\r\nto me, and after a quick glance said, \"Dr. Seward, is it not?\"\r\n\r\n\"And you are Mrs. Harker!\" I answered at once, whereupon she\r\nheld out her hand.\r\n\r\n\"I knew you from the description of poor dear Lucy, but\u2026 \" She\r\nstopped suddenly, and a quick blush overspread her face.\r\n\r\nThe blush that rose to my own cheeks somehow set us both at\r\nease, for it was a tacit answer to her own. I got her luggage,\r\nwhich included a typewriter, and we took the Underground to\r\nFenchurch Street, after I had sent a wire to my housekeeper to have\r\na sitting room and a bedroom prepared at once for Mrs. Harker.\r\n\r\nIn due time we arrived. She knew, of course, that the place was\r\na lunatic asylum, but I could see that she was unable to repress a\r\nshudder when we entered.\r\n\r\nShe told me that, if she might, she would come presently to my\r\nstudy, as she had much to say. So here I am finishing my entry in\r\nmy phonograph diary whilst I await her. As yet I have not had the\r\nchance of looking at the papers which Van Helsing left with me,\r\nthough they lie open before me. I must get her interested in\r\nsomething, so that I may have an opportunity of reading them. She\r\ndoes not know how precious time is, or what a task we have in hand.\r\nI must be careful not to frighten her. Here she is!\r\n\r\nMINA HARKER'S JOURNAL\r\n\r\n29 September.\u2014After I had tidied myself, I went down to Dr.\r\nSeward's study. At the door I paused a moment, for I thought I\r\nheard him talking with some one. As, however, he had pressed me to\r\nbe quick, I knocked at the door, and on his calling out, \"Come in,\"\r\nI entered.\r\n\r\nTo my intense surprise, there was no one with him. He was quite\r\nalone, and on the table opposite him was what I knew at once from\r\nthe description to be a phonograph. I had never seen one, and was\r\nmuch interested.\r\n\r\n\"I hope I did not keep you waiting,\" I said, \"but I stayed at\r\nthe door as I heard you talking, and thought there was someone with\r\nyou.\"\r\n\r\n\"Oh,\" he replied with a smile, \"I was only entering my\r\ndiary.\"\r\n\r\n\"Your diary?\" I asked him in surprise.\r\n\r\n\"Yes,\" he answered. \"I keep it in this.\" As he spoke he laid his\r\nhand on the phonograph. I felt quite excited over it, and blurted\r\nout, \"Why, this beats even shorthand! May I hear it say\r\nsomething?\"\r\n\r\n\"Certainly,\" he replied with alacrity, and stood up to put it in\r\ntrain for speaking. Then he paused, and a troubled look overspread\r\nhis face.\r\n\r\n\"The fact is,\" he began awkwardly.\"I only keep my diary in it,\r\nand as it is entirely, almost entirely, about my cases it may be\r\nawkward, that is, I mean\u00a0\u2026 \" He stopped, and I tried to help\r\nhim out of his embarrassment.\r\n\r\n\"You helped to attend dear Lucy at the end. Let me hear how she\r\ndied, for all that I know of her, I shall be very grateful. She was\r\nvery, very dear to me.\"\r\n\r\nTo my surprise, he answered, with a horrorstruck look in his\r\nface, \"Tell you of her death? Not for the wide world!\"\r\n\r\n\"Why not?\" I asked, for some grave, terrible feeling was coming\r\nover me.\r\n\r\nAgain he paused, and I could see that he was trying to invent an\r\nexcuse. At length, he stammered out, \"You see, I do not know how to\r\npick out any particular part of the diary.\"\r\n\r\nEven while he was speaking an idea dawned upon him, and he said\r\nwith unconscious simplicity, in a different voice, and with the\r\nnaivete of a child, \"that's quite true, upon my honor. Honest\r\nIndian!\"\r\n\r\nI could not but smile, at which he grimaced.\"I gave myself away\r\nthat time!\" he said. \"But do you know that, although I have kept\r\nthe diary for months past, it never once struck me how I was going\r\nto find any particular part of it in case I wanted to look it\r\nup?\"\r\n\r\nBy this time my mind was made up that the diary of a doctor who\r\nattended Lucy might have something to add to the sum of our\r\nknowledge of that terrible Being, and I said boldly, \"Then, Dr.\r\nSeward, you had better let me copy it out for you on my\r\ntypewriter.\"\r\n\r\nHe grew to a positively deathly pallor as he said, \"No! No! No!\r\nFor all the world. I wouldn't let you know that terrible\r\nstory.!\"\r\n\r\nThen it was terrible. My intuition was right! For a moment, I\r\nthought, and as my eyes ranged the room, unconsciously looking for\r\nsomething or some opportunity to aid me, they lit on a great batch\r\nof typewriting on the table. His eyes caught the look in mine, and\r\nwithout his thinking, followed their direction. As they saw the\r\nparcel he realized my meaning.\r\n\r\n\"You do not know me,\" I said. \"When you have read those papers,\r\nmy own diary and my husband's also, which I have typed, you will\r\nknow me better. I have not faltered in giving every thought of my\r\nown heart in this cause. But, of course, you do not know me, yet,\r\nand I must not expect you to trust me so far.\"\r\n\r\nHe is certainly a man of noble nature. Poor dear Lucy was right\r\nabout him. He stood up and opened a large drawer, in which were\r\narranged in order a number of hollow cylinders of metal covered\r\nwith dark wax, and said,\r\n\r\n\"You are quite right. I did not trust you because I did not know\r\nyou. But I know you now, and let me say that I should have known\r\nyou long ago. I know that Lucy told you of me. She told me of you\r\ntoo. May I make the only atonement in my power? Take the cylinders\r\nand hear them. The first half-dozen of them are personal to me, and\r\nthey will not horrify you. Then you will know me better. Dinner\r\nwill by then be ready. In the meantime I shall read over some of\r\nthese documents, and shall be better able to understand certain\r\nthings.\"\r\n\r\nHe carried the phonograph himself up to my sitting room and\r\nadjusted it for me. Now I shall learn something pleasant, I am\r\nsure. For it will tell me the other side of a true love episode of\r\nwhich I know one side already.\r\n\r\nDR. SEWARD'S DIARY\r\n\r\n29 September.\u2014I was so absorbed in that wonderful diary of\r\nJonathan Harker and that other of his wife that I let the time run\r\non without thinking. Mrs. Harker was not down when the maid came to\r\nannounce dinner, so I said, \"She is possibly tired. Let dinner wait\r\nan hour,\" and I went on with my work. I had just finished Mrs.\r\nHarker's diary, when she came in. She looked sweetly pretty, but\r\nvery sad, and her eyes were flushed with crying. This somehow moved\r\nme much. Of late I have had cause for tears, God knows! But the\r\nrelief of them was denied me, and now the sight of those sweet\r\neyes, brightened by recent tears, went straight to my heart. So I\r\nsaid as gently as I could, \"I greatly fear I have distressed\r\nyou.\"\r\n\r\n\"Oh, no, not distressed me,\" she replied. \"But I have been more\r\ntouched than I can say by your grief. That is a wonderful machine,\r\nbut it is cruelly true. It told me, in its very tones, the anguish\r\nof your heart. It was like a soul crying out to Almighty God. No\r\none must hear them spoken ever again! See, I have tried to be\r\nuseful. I have copied out the words on my typewriter, and none\r\nother need now hear your heart beat, as I did.\"\r\n\r\n\"No one need ever know, shall ever know,\" I said in a low voice.\r\nShe laid her hand on mine and said very gravely, \"Ah, but they\r\nmust!\"\r\n\r\n\"Must! but why?\" I asked.\r\n\r\n\"Because it is a part of the terrible story, a part of poor\r\nLucy's death and all that led to it. Because in the struggle which\r\nwe have before us to rid the earth of this terrible monster we must\r\nhave all the knowledge and all the help which we can get. I think\r\nthat the cylinders which you gave me contained more than you\r\nintended me to know. But I can see that there are in your record\r\nmany lights to this dark mystery. You will let me help, will you\r\nnot? I know all up to a certain point, and I see already, though\r\nyour diary only took me to 7 September, how poor Lucy was beset,\r\nand how her terrible doom was being wrought out. Jonathan and I\r\nhave been working day and night since Professor Van Helsing saw us.\r\nHe is gone to Whitby to get more information, and he will be here\r\ntomorrow to help us. We need have no secrets amongst us. Working\r\ntogether and with absolute trust, we can surely be stronger than if\r\nsome of us were in the dark.\"\r\n\r\nShe looked at me so appealingly, and at the same time manifested\r\nsuch courage and resolution in her bearing, that I gave in at once\r\nto her wishes. \"You shall,\" I said, \"do as you like in the matter.\r\nGod forgive me if I do wrong! There are terrible things yet to\r\nlearn of. But if you have so far traveled on the road to poor\r\nLucy's death, you will not be content, I know, to remain in the\r\ndark. Nay, the end, the very end, may give you a gleam of peace.\r\nCome, there is dinner. We must keep one another strong for what is\r\nbefore us. We have a cruel and dreadful task. When you have eaten\r\nyou shall learn the rest, and I shall answer any questions you ask,\r\nif there be anything which you do not understand, though it was\r\napparent to us who were present.\"\r\n\r\nMINA HARKER'S JOURNAL\r\n\r\n29 September.\u2014After dinner I came with Dr. Seward to his study.\r\nHe brought back the phonograph from my room, and I took a chair,\r\nand arranged the phonograph so that I could touch it without\r\ngetting up, and showed me how to stop it in case I should want to\r\npause. Then he very thoughtfully took a chair, with his back to me,\r\nso that I might be as free as possible, and began to read. I put\r\nthe forked metal to my ears and listened.\r\n\r\nWhen the terrible story of Lucy's death, and all that followed,\r\nwas done, I lay back in my chair powerless. Fortunately I am not of\r\na fainting disposition. When Dr. Seward saw me he jumped up with a\r\nhorrified exclamation, and hurriedly taking a case bottle from the\r\ncupboard, gave me some brandy, which in a few minutes somewhat\r\nrestored me. My brain was all in a whirl, and only that there came\r\nthrough all the multitude of horrors, the holy ray of light that my\r\ndear Lucy was at last at peace, I do not think I could have borne\r\nit without making a scene. It is all so wild and mysterious, and\r\nstrange that if I had not known Jonathan's experience in\r\nTransylvania I could not have believed. As it was, I didn't know\r\nwhat to believe, and so got out of my difficulty by attending to\r\nsomething else. I took the cover off my typewriter, and said to Dr.\r\nSeward,\r\n\r\n\"Let me write this all out now. We must be ready for Dr. Van\r\nHelsing when he comes. I have sent a telegram to Jonathan to come\r\non here when he arrives in London from Whitby. In this matter dates\r\nare everything, and I think that if we get all of our material\r\nready, and have every item put in chronological order, we shall\r\nhave done much.\r\n\r\n\"You tell me that Lord Godalming and Mr. Morris are coming too.\r\nLet us be able to tell them when they come.\"\r\n\r\nHe accordingly set the phonograph at a slow pace, and I began to\r\ntypewrite from the beginning of the seventeenth cylinder. I used\r\nmanifold, and so took three copies of the diary, just as I had done\r\nwith the rest. It was late when I got through, but Dr. Seward went\r\nabout his work of going his round of the patients. When he had\r\nfinished he came back and sat near me, reading, so that I did not\r\nfeel too lonely whilst I worked. How good and thoughtful he is. The\r\nworld seems full of good men, even if there are monsters in it.\r\n\r\nBefore I left him I remembered what Jonathan put in his diary of\r\nthe Professor's perturbation at reading something in an evening\r\npaper at the station at Exeter, so, seeing that Dr. Seward keeps\r\nhis newspapers, I borrowed the files of `The Westminster Gazette'\r\nand `The Pall Mall Gazette' and took them to my room. I remember\r\nhow much the `Dailygraph' and `The Whitby Gazette', of which I had\r\nmade cuttings, had helped us to understand the terrible events at\r\nWhitby when Count Dracula landed, so I shall look through the\r\nevening papers since then, and perhaps I shall get some new light.\r\nI am not sleepy, and the work will help to keep me quiet.\r\n\r\nDR. SEWARD'S DIARY\r\n\r\n30 September.\u2014Mr. Harker arrived at nine o'clock. He got his\r\nwife's wire just before starting. He is uncommonly clever, if one\r\ncan judge from his face, and full of energy. If this journal be\r\ntrue, and judging by one's own wonderful experiences, it must be,\r\nhe is also a man of great nerve. That going down to the vault a\r\nsecond time was a remarkable piece of daring. After reading his\r\naccount of it I was prepared to meet a good specimen of manhood,\r\nbut hardly the quiet, business-like gentleman who came here\r\ntoday.\r\n\r\nLATER.\u2014After lunch Harker and his wife went back to their own\r\nroom, and as I passed a while ago I heard the click of the\r\ntypewriter. They are hard at it. Mrs. Harker says that knitting\r\ntogether in chronological order every scrap of evidence they have.\r\nHarker has got the letters between the consignee of the boxes at\r\nWhitby and the carriers in London who took charge of them. He is\r\nnow reading his wife's transcript of my diary. I wonder what they\r\nmake out of it. Here it is\u00a0\u2026\r\n\r\nStrange that it never struck me that the very next house might\r\nbe the Count's hiding place! Goodness knows that we had enough\r\nclues from the conduct of the patient Renfield! The bundle of\r\nletters relating to the purchase of the house were with the\r\ntranscript. Oh, if we had only had them earlier we might have saved\r\npoor Lucy! Stop! That way madness lies! Harker has gone back, and\r\nis again collecting material. He says that by dinner time they will\r\nbe able to show a whole connected narrative. He thinks that in the\r\nmeantime I should see Renfield, as hitherto he has been a sort of\r\nindex to the coming and going of the Count. I hardly see this yet,\r\nbut when I get at the dates I suppose I shall. What a good thing\r\nthat Mrs. Harker put my cylinders into type! We never could have\r\nfound the dates otherwise.\r\n\r\nI found Renfield sitting placidly in his room with his hands\r\nfolded, smiling benignly. At the moment he seemed as sane as any\r\none I ever saw. I sat down and talked with him on a lot of\r\nsubjects, all of which he treated naturally. He then, of his own\r\naccord, spoke of going home, a subject he has never mentioned to my\r\nknowledge during his sojourn here. In fact, he spoke quite\r\nconfidently of getting his discharge at once. I believe that, had I\r\nnot had the chat with Harker and read the letters and the dates of\r\nhis outbursts, I should have been prepared to sign for him after a\r\nbrief time of observation. As it is, I am darkly suspicious. All\r\nthose outbreaks were in some way linked with the proximity of the\r\nCount. What then does this absolute content mean? Can it be that\r\nhis instinct is satisfied as to the vampire's ultimate triumph?\r\nStay. He is himself zoophagous, and in his wild ravings outside the\r\nchapel door of the deserted house he always spoke of `master'. This\r\nall seems confirmation of our idea. However, after a while I came\r\naway. My friend is just a little too sane at present to make it\r\nsafe to probe him too deep with questions. He might begin to think,\r\nand then\u00a0\u2026 So I came away. I mistrust these quiet moods of of\r\nhis, so I have given the attendant a hint to look closely after\r\nhim, and to have a strait waistcoat ready in case of need.\r\n\r\nJOHNATHAN HARKER'S JOURNAL\r\n\r\n29 September, in train to London.\u2014When I received Mr.\r\nBillington's courteous message that he would give me any\r\ninformation in his power I thought it best to go down to Whitby and\r\nmake, on the spot, such inquiries as I wanted. It was now my object\r\nto trace that horrid cargo of the Count's to its place in London.\r\nLater, we may be able to deal with it. Billington junior, a nice\r\nlad, met me at the station, and brought me to his father's house,\r\nwhere they had decided that I must spend the night. They are\r\nhospitable, with true Yorkshire hospitality, give a guest\r\neverything and leave him to do as he likes. They all knew that I\r\nwas busy, and that my stay was short, and Mr. Billington had ready\r\nin his office all the papers concerning the consignment of boxes.\r\nIt gave me almost a turn to see again one of the letters which I\r\nhad seen on the Count's table before I knew of his diabolical\r\nplans. Everything had been carefully thought out, and done\r\nsystematically and with precision. He seemed to have been prepared\r\nfor every obstacle which might be placed by accident in the way of\r\nhis intentions being carried out. To use an Americanism, he had\r\n`taken no chances', and the absolute accuracy with which his\r\ninstructions were fulfilled was simply the logical result of his\r\ncare. I saw the invoice, and took note of it.`Fifty cases of common\r\nearth, to be used for experimental purposes'. Also the copy of the\r\nletter to Carter Paterson, and their reply. Of both these I got\r\ncopies. This was all the information Mr. Billington could give me,\r\nso I went down to the port and saw the coastguards, the Customs\r\nOfficers and the harbor master, who kindly put me in communication\r\nwith the men who had actually received the boxes. Their tally was\r\nexact with the list, and they had nothing to add to the simple\r\ndescription `fifty cases of common earth', except that the boxes\r\nwere `main and mortal heavy', and that shifting them was dry work.\r\nOne of them added that it was hard lines that there wasn't any\r\ngentleman `such like as like yourself, squire', to show some sort\r\nof appreciation of their efforts in a liquid form. Another put in a\r\nrider that the thirst then generated was such that even the time\r\nwhich had elapsed had not completely allayed it. Needless to add, I\r\ntook care before leaving to lift, forever and adequately, this\r\nsource of reproach.\r\n\r\n30 September.\u2014The station master was good enough to give me a\r\nline to his old companion the station master at King's Cross, so\r\nthat when I arrived there in the morning I was able to ask him\r\nabout the arrival of the boxes. He, too put me at once in\r\ncommunication with the proper officials, and I saw that their tally\r\nwas correct with the original invoice. The opportunities of\r\nacquiring an abnormal thirst had been here limited. A noble use of\r\nthem had, however, been made, and again I was compelled to deal\r\nwith the result in ex post facto manner.\r\n\r\nFrom thence I went to Carter Paterson's central office, where I\r\nmet with the utmost courtesy. They looked up the transaction in\r\ntheir day book and letter book, and at once telephoned to their\r\nKing's Cross office for more details. By good fortune, the men who\r\ndid the teaming were waiting for work, and the official at once\r\nsent them over, sending also by one of them the way-bill and all\r\nthe papers connected with the delivery of the boxes at Carfax. Here\r\nagain I found the tally agreeing exactly. The carriers' men were\r\nable to supplement the paucity of the written words with a few more\r\ndetails. These were, I shortly found, connected almost solely with\r\nthe dusty nature of the job, and the consequent thirst engendered\r\nin the operators. On my affording an opportunity, through the\r\nmedium of the currency of the realm, of the allaying, at a later\r\nperiod, this beneficial evil, one of the men remarked,\r\n\r\n\"That `ere `ouse, guv'nor, is the rummiest I ever was in. Blyme!\r\nBut it ain't been touched sence a hundred years. There was dust\r\nthat thick in the place that you might have slep' on it without\r\n`urtin' of yer bones. An' the place was that neglected that yer\r\nmight `ave smelled ole Jerusalem in it. But the old chapel, that\r\ntook the cike, that did!Me and my mate, we thort we wouldn't never\r\ngit out quick enough. Lor', I wouldn't take less nor a quid a\r\nmoment to stay there arter dark.\"\r\n\r\nHaving been in the house, I could well believe him, but if he\r\nknew what I know, he would, I think have raised his terms.\r\n\r\nOf one thing I am now satisfied. That all those boxes which\r\narrived at Whitby from Varna in the Demeter were safely deposited\r\nin the old chapel at Carfax. There should be fifty of them there,\r\nunless any have since been removed, as from Dr. Seward's diary I\r\nfear.\r\n\r\nLater.\u2014Mina and I have worked all day, and we have put all the\r\npapers into order.\r\n\r\nMINA HARKER'S JOURNAL\r\n\r\n30 September.\u2014I am so glad that I hardly know how to contain\r\nmyself. It is, I suppose, the reaction from the haunting fear which\r\nI have had, that this terrible affair and the reopening of his old\r\nwound might act detrimentally on Jonathan. I saw him leave for\r\nWhitby with as brave a face as could, but I was sick with\r\napprehension. The effort has, however, done him good. He was never\r\nso resolute, never so strong, never so full of volcanic energy, as\r\nat present. It is just as that dear, good Professor Van Helsing\r\nsaid, he is true grit, and he improves under strain that would kill\r\na weaker nature. He came back full of life and hope and\r\ndetermination. We have got everything in order for tonight. I feel\r\nmyself quite wild with excitement. I suppose one ought to pity\r\nanything so hunted as the Count. That is just it. This thing is not\r\nhuman, not even a beast. To read Dr. Seward's account of poor\r\nLucy's death, and what followed, is enough to dry up the springs of\r\npity in one's heart.\r\n\r\nLater.\u2014Lord Godalming and Mr. Morris arrived earlier than we\r\nexpected. Dr. Seward was out on business, and had taken Jonathan\r\nwith him, so I had to see them. It was to me a painful meeting, for\r\nit brought back all poor dear Lucy's hopes of only a few months\r\nago. Of course they had heard Lucy speak of me, and it seemed that\r\nDr. Van Helsing, too, had been quite `blowing my trumpet', as Mr.\r\nMorris expressed it. Poor fellows, neither of them is aware that I\r\nknow all about the proposals they made to Lucy. They did not quite\r\nknow what to say or do, as they were ignorant of the amount of my\r\nknowledge. So they had to keep on neutral subjects. However, I\r\nthought the matter over, and came to the conclusion that the best\r\nthing I could do would be to post them on affairs right up to date.\r\nI knew from Dr. Seward's diary that they had been at Lucy's death,\r\nher real death, and that I need not fear to betray any secret\r\nbefore the time. So I told them, as well as I could, that I had\r\nread all the papers and diaries, and that my husband and I, having\r\ntypewritten them, had just finished putting them in order. I gave\r\nthem each a copy to read in the library. When Lord Godalming got\r\nhis and turned it over, it does make a pretty good pile, he said,\r\n\"Did you write all this, Mrs. Harker?\"\r\n\r\nI nodded, and he went on.\r\n\r\n\"I don't quite see the drift of it, but you people are all so\r\ngood and kind, and have been working so earnestly and so\r\nenergetically, that all I can do is to accept your ideas blindfold\r\nand try to help you. I have had one lesson already in accepting\r\nfacts that should make a man humble to the last hour of his life.\r\nBesides, I know you loved my Lucy\u00a0\u2026 \"\r\n\r\nHere he turned away and covered his face with his hands. I could\r\nhear the tears in his voice. Mr. Morris, with instinctive delicacy,\r\njust laid a hand for a moment on his shoulder, and then walked\r\nquietly out of the room. I suppose there is something in a woman's\r\nnature that makes a man free to break down before her and express\r\nhis feelings on the tender or emotional side without feeling it\r\nderogatory to his manhood. For when Lord Godalming found himself\r\nalone with me he sat down on the sofa and gave way utterly and\r\nopenly. I sat down beside him and took his hand. I hope he didn't\r\nthink it forward of me, and that if her ever thinks of it\r\nafterwards he never will have such a thought. There I wrong him. I\r\nknow he never will. He is too true a gentleman. I said to him, for\r\nI could see that his heart was breaking, \"I loved dear Lucy, and I\r\nknow what she was to you, and what you were to her. She and I were\r\nlike sisters, and now she is gone, will you not let me be like a\r\nsister to you in your trouble? I know what sorrows you have had,\r\nthough I cannot measure the depth of them. If sympathy and pity can\r\nhelp in your affliction, won't you let me be of some little\r\nservice, for Lucy's sake?\"\r\n\r\nIn an instant the poor dear fellow was overwhelmed with grief.\r\nIt seemed to me that all that he had of late been suffering in\r\nsilence found a vent at once. He grew quite hysterical, and raising\r\nhis open hands, beat his palms together in a perfect agony of\r\ngrief. He stood up and then sat down again, and the tears rained\r\ndown his cheeks. I felt an infinite pity for him, and opened my\r\narms unthinkingly. With a sob he laid his head on my shoulder and\r\ncried like a wearied child, whilst he shook with emotion.\r\n\r\nWe women have something of the mother in us that makes us rise\r\nabove smaller matters when the mother spirit is invoked. I felt\r\nthis big sorrowing man's head resting on me, as though it were that\r\nof a baby that some day may lie on my bosom, and I stroked his hair\r\nas though he were my own child. I never thought at the time how\r\nstrange it all was.\r\n\r\nAfter a little bit his sobs ceased, and he raised himself with\r\nan apology, though he made no disguise of his emotion. He told me\r\nthat for days and nights past, weary days and sleepless nights, he\r\nhad been unable to speak with any one, as a man must speak in his\r\ntime of sorrow. There was no woman whose sympathy could be given to\r\nhim, or with whom, owing to the terrible circumstance with which\r\nhis sorrow was surrounded, he could speak freely.\r\n\r\n\"I know now how I suffered,\" he said, as he dried his eyes, \"but\r\nI do not know even yet, and none other can ever know, how much your\r\nsweet sympathy has been to me today. I shall know better in time,\r\nand believe me that, though I am not ungrateful now, my gratitude\r\nwill grow with my understanding. You will let me be like a brother,\r\nwill you not, for all our lives, for dear Lucy's sake?\"\r\n\r\n\"For dear Lucy's sake,\" I said as we clasped hands.\"Ay, and for\r\nyour own sake,\" he added, \"for if a man's esteem and gratitude are\r\never worth the winning, you have won mine today. If ever the future\r\nshould bring to you a time when you need a man's help, believe me,\r\nyou will not call in vain. God grant that no such time may ever\r\ncome to you to break the sunshine of your life, but if it should\r\never come, promise me that you will let me know.\"\r\n\r\nHe was so earnest, and his sorrow was so fresh, that I felt it\r\nwould comfort him, so I said, \"I promise.\"\r\n\r\nAs I came along the corridor I say Mr. Morris looking out of a\r\nwindow. He turned as he heard my footsteps. \"How is Art?\" he said.\r\nThen noticing my red eyes, he went on,\"Ah, I see you have been\r\ncomforting him. Poor old fellow! He needs it. No one but a woman\r\ncan help a man when he is in trouble of the heart, and he had no\r\none to comfort him.\"\r\n\r\nHe bore his own trouble so bravely that my heart bled for him. I\r\nsaw the manuscript in his hand, and I knew that when he read it he\r\nwould realize how much I knew, so I said to him,\"I wish I could\r\ncomfort all who suffer from the heart. Will you let me be your\r\nfriend, and will you come to me for comfort if you need it? You\r\nwill know later why I speak.\"\r\n\r\nHe saw that I was in earnest, and stooping, took my hand, and\r\nraising it to his lips, kissed it. It seemed but poor comfort to so\r\nbrave and unselfish a soul, and impulsively I bent over and kissed\r\nhim. The tears rose in his eyes, and there was a momentary choking\r\nin his throat. He said quite calmly,\"Little girl, you will never\r\nforget that true hearted kindness, so long as ever you live!\" Then\r\nhe went into the study to his friend.\r\n\r\n\"Little girl!\" The very words he had used to Lucy, and, oh, but\r\nhe proved himself a friend.\r\n\r\n<\/div>\r\n","rendered":"
\n

When we arrived at the Berkely Hotel, Van Helsing found a
\ntelegram waiting for him.<\/p>\n

“Am coming up by train. Jonathan at Whitby. Important news. Mina
\nHarker.”<\/p>\n

The Professor was delighted. “Ah, that wonderful Madam Mina,” he
\nsaid, “pearl among women! She arrive, but I cannot stay. She must
\ngo to your house, friend John. You must meet her at the station.
\nTelegraph her en route so that she may be prepared.”<\/p>\n

When the wire was dispatched he had a cup of tea. Over it he
\ntold me of a diary kept by Jonathan Harker when abroad, and gave me
\na typewritten copy of it, as also of Mrs. Harker’s diary at Whitby.
\n“Take these,” he said,”and study them well. When I have returned
\nyou will be master of all the facts, and we can then better enter
\non our inquisition. Keep them safe, for there is in them much of
\ntreasure. You will need all your faith, even you who have had such
\nan experience as that of today. What is here told,” he laid his
\nhand heavily and gravely on the packet of papers as he spoke, “may
\nbe the beginning of the end to you and me and many another, or it
\nmay sound the knell of the Un-Dead who walk the earth. Read all, I
\npray you, with the open mind, and if you can add in any way to the
\nstory here told do so, for it is all important. You have kept a
\ndiary of all these so strange things, is it not so? Yes! Then we
\nshall go through all these together when we meet.” He then made
\nready for his departure and shortly drove off to Liverpool Street.
\nI took my way to Paddington, where I arrived about fifteen minutes
\nbefore the train came in.<\/p>\n

The crowd melted away, after the bustling fashion common to
\narrival platforms, and I was beginning to feel uneasy, lest I might
\nmiss my guest, when a sweet-faced, dainty looking girl stepped up
\nto me, and after a quick glance said, “Dr. Seward, is it not?”<\/p>\n

“And you are Mrs. Harker!” I answered at once, whereupon she
\nheld out her hand.<\/p>\n

“I knew you from the description of poor dear Lucy, but\u2026 ” She
\nstopped suddenly, and a quick blush overspread her face.<\/p>\n

The blush that rose to my own cheeks somehow set us both at
\nease, for it was a tacit answer to her own. I got her luggage,
\nwhich included a typewriter, and we took the Underground to
\nFenchurch Street, after I had sent a wire to my housekeeper to have
\na sitting room and a bedroom prepared at once for Mrs. Harker.<\/p>\n

In due time we arrived. She knew, of course, that the place was
\na lunatic asylum, but I could see that she was unable to repress a
\nshudder when we entered.<\/p>\n

She told me that, if she might, she would come presently to my
\nstudy, as she had much to say. So here I am finishing my entry in
\nmy phonograph diary whilst I await her. As yet I have not had the
\nchance of looking at the papers which Van Helsing left with me,
\nthough they lie open before me. I must get her interested in
\nsomething, so that I may have an opportunity of reading them. She
\ndoes not know how precious time is, or what a task we have in hand.
\nI must be careful not to frighten her. Here she is!<\/p>\n

MINA HARKER’S JOURNAL<\/p>\n

29 September.\u2014After I had tidied myself, I went down to Dr.
\nSeward’s study. At the door I paused a moment, for I thought I
\nheard him talking with some one. As, however, he had pressed me to
\nbe quick, I knocked at the door, and on his calling out, “Come in,”
\nI entered.<\/p>\n

To my intense surprise, there was no one with him. He was quite
\nalone, and on the table opposite him was what I knew at once from
\nthe description to be a phonograph. I had never seen one, and was
\nmuch interested.<\/p>\n

“I hope I did not keep you waiting,” I said, “but I stayed at
\nthe door as I heard you talking, and thought there was someone with
\nyou.”<\/p>\n

“Oh,” he replied with a smile, “I was only entering my
\ndiary.”<\/p>\n

“Your diary?” I asked him in surprise.<\/p>\n

“Yes,” he answered. “I keep it in this.” As he spoke he laid his
\nhand on the phonograph. I felt quite excited over it, and blurted
\nout, “Why, this beats even shorthand! May I hear it say
\nsomething?”<\/p>\n

“Certainly,” he replied with alacrity, and stood up to put it in
\ntrain for speaking. Then he paused, and a troubled look overspread
\nhis face.<\/p>\n

“The fact is,” he began awkwardly.”I only keep my diary in it,
\nand as it is entirely, almost entirely, about my cases it may be
\nawkward, that is, I mean\u00a0\u2026 ” He stopped, and I tried to help
\nhim out of his embarrassment.<\/p>\n

“You helped to attend dear Lucy at the end. Let me hear how she
\ndied, for all that I know of her, I shall be very grateful. She was
\nvery, very dear to me.”<\/p>\n

To my surprise, he answered, with a horrorstruck look in his
\nface, “Tell you of her death? Not for the wide world!”<\/p>\n

“Why not?” I asked, for some grave, terrible feeling was coming
\nover me.<\/p>\n

Again he paused, and I could see that he was trying to invent an
\nexcuse. At length, he stammered out, “You see, I do not know how to
\npick out any particular part of the diary.”<\/p>\n

Even while he was speaking an idea dawned upon him, and he said
\nwith unconscious simplicity, in a different voice, and with the
\nnaivete of a child, “that’s quite true, upon my honor. Honest
\nIndian!”<\/p>\n

I could not but smile, at which he grimaced.”I gave myself away
\nthat time!” he said. “But do you know that, although I have kept
\nthe diary for months past, it never once struck me how I was going
\nto find any particular part of it in case I wanted to look it
\nup?”<\/p>\n

By this time my mind was made up that the diary of a doctor who
\nattended Lucy might have something to add to the sum of our
\nknowledge of that terrible Being, and I said boldly, “Then, Dr.
\nSeward, you had better let me copy it out for you on my
\ntypewriter.”<\/p>\n

He grew to a positively deathly pallor as he said, “No! No! No!
\nFor all the world. I wouldn’t let you know that terrible
\nstory.!”<\/p>\n

Then it was terrible. My intuition was right! For a moment, I
\nthought, and as my eyes ranged the room, unconsciously looking for
\nsomething or some opportunity to aid me, they lit on a great batch
\nof typewriting on the table. His eyes caught the look in mine, and
\nwithout his thinking, followed their direction. As they saw the
\nparcel he realized my meaning.<\/p>\n

“You do not know me,” I said. “When you have read those papers,
\nmy own diary and my husband’s also, which I have typed, you will
\nknow me better. I have not faltered in giving every thought of my
\nown heart in this cause. But, of course, you do not know me, yet,
\nand I must not expect you to trust me so far.”<\/p>\n

He is certainly a man of noble nature. Poor dear Lucy was right
\nabout him. He stood up and opened a large drawer, in which were
\narranged in order a number of hollow cylinders of metal covered
\nwith dark wax, and said,<\/p>\n

“You are quite right. I did not trust you because I did not know
\nyou. But I know you now, and let me say that I should have known
\nyou long ago. I know that Lucy told you of me. She told me of you
\ntoo. May I make the only atonement in my power? Take the cylinders
\nand hear them. The first half-dozen of them are personal to me, and
\nthey will not horrify you. Then you will know me better. Dinner
\nwill by then be ready. In the meantime I shall read over some of
\nthese documents, and shall be better able to understand certain
\nthings.”<\/p>\n

He carried the phonograph himself up to my sitting room and
\nadjusted it for me. Now I shall learn something pleasant, I am
\nsure. For it will tell me the other side of a true love episode of
\nwhich I know one side already.<\/p>\n

DR. SEWARD’S DIARY<\/p>\n

29 September.\u2014I was so absorbed in that wonderful diary of
\nJonathan Harker and that other of his wife that I let the time run
\non without thinking. Mrs. Harker was not down when the maid came to
\nannounce dinner, so I said, “She is possibly tired. Let dinner wait
\nan hour,” and I went on with my work. I had just finished Mrs.
\nHarker’s diary, when she came in. She looked sweetly pretty, but
\nvery sad, and her eyes were flushed with crying. This somehow moved
\nme much. Of late I have had cause for tears, God knows! But the
\nrelief of them was denied me, and now the sight of those sweet
\neyes, brightened by recent tears, went straight to my heart. So I
\nsaid as gently as I could, “I greatly fear I have distressed
\nyou.”<\/p>\n

“Oh, no, not distressed me,” she replied. “But I have been more
\ntouched than I can say by your grief. That is a wonderful machine,
\nbut it is cruelly true. It told me, in its very tones, the anguish
\nof your heart. It was like a soul crying out to Almighty God. No
\none must hear them spoken ever again! See, I have tried to be
\nuseful. I have copied out the words on my typewriter, and none
\nother need now hear your heart beat, as I did.”<\/p>\n

“No one need ever know, shall ever know,” I said in a low voice.
\nShe laid her hand on mine and said very gravely, “Ah, but they
\nmust!”<\/p>\n

“Must! but why?” I asked.<\/p>\n

“Because it is a part of the terrible story, a part of poor
\nLucy’s death and all that led to it. Because in the struggle which
\nwe have before us to rid the earth of this terrible monster we must
\nhave all the knowledge and all the help which we can get. I think
\nthat the cylinders which you gave me contained more than you
\nintended me to know. But I can see that there are in your record
\nmany lights to this dark mystery. You will let me help, will you
\nnot? I know all up to a certain point, and I see already, though
\nyour diary only took me to 7 September, how poor Lucy was beset,
\nand how her terrible doom was being wrought out. Jonathan and I
\nhave been working day and night since Professor Van Helsing saw us.
\nHe is gone to Whitby to get more information, and he will be here
\ntomorrow to help us. We need have no secrets amongst us. Working
\ntogether and with absolute trust, we can surely be stronger than if
\nsome of us were in the dark.”<\/p>\n

She looked at me so appealingly, and at the same time manifested
\nsuch courage and resolution in her bearing, that I gave in at once
\nto her wishes. “You shall,” I said, “do as you like in the matter.
\nGod forgive me if I do wrong! There are terrible things yet to
\nlearn of. But if you have so far traveled on the road to poor
\nLucy’s death, you will not be content, I know, to remain in the
\ndark. Nay, the end, the very end, may give you a gleam of peace.
\nCome, there is dinner. We must keep one another strong for what is
\nbefore us. We have a cruel and dreadful task. When you have eaten
\nyou shall learn the rest, and I shall answer any questions you ask,
\nif there be anything which you do not understand, though it was
\napparent to us who were present.”<\/p>\n

MINA HARKER’S JOURNAL<\/p>\n

29 September.\u2014After dinner I came with Dr. Seward to his study.
\nHe brought back the phonograph from my room, and I took a chair,
\nand arranged the phonograph so that I could touch it without
\ngetting up, and showed me how to stop it in case I should want to
\npause. Then he very thoughtfully took a chair, with his back to me,
\nso that I might be as free as possible, and began to read. I put
\nthe forked metal to my ears and listened.<\/p>\n

When the terrible story of Lucy’s death, and all that followed,
\nwas done, I lay back in my chair powerless. Fortunately I am not of
\na fainting disposition. When Dr. Seward saw me he jumped up with a
\nhorrified exclamation, and hurriedly taking a case bottle from the
\ncupboard, gave me some brandy, which in a few minutes somewhat
\nrestored me. My brain was all in a whirl, and only that there came
\nthrough all the multitude of horrors, the holy ray of light that my
\ndear Lucy was at last at peace, I do not think I could have borne
\nit without making a scene. It is all so wild and mysterious, and
\nstrange that if I had not known Jonathan’s experience in
\nTransylvania I could not have believed. As it was, I didn’t know
\nwhat to believe, and so got out of my difficulty by attending to
\nsomething else. I took the cover off my typewriter, and said to Dr.
\nSeward,<\/p>\n

“Let me write this all out now. We must be ready for Dr. Van
\nHelsing when he comes. I have sent a telegram to Jonathan to come
\non here when he arrives in London from Whitby. In this matter dates
\nare everything, and I think that if we get all of our material
\nready, and have every item put in chronological order, we shall
\nhave done much.<\/p>\n

“You tell me that Lord Godalming and Mr. Morris are coming too.
\nLet us be able to tell them when they come.”<\/p>\n

He accordingly set the phonograph at a slow pace, and I began to
\ntypewrite from the beginning of the seventeenth cylinder. I used
\nmanifold, and so took three copies of the diary, just as I had done
\nwith the rest. It was late when I got through, but Dr. Seward went
\nabout his work of going his round of the patients. When he had
\nfinished he came back and sat near me, reading, so that I did not
\nfeel too lonely whilst I worked. How good and thoughtful he is. The
\nworld seems full of good men, even if there are monsters in it.<\/p>\n

Before I left him I remembered what Jonathan put in his diary of
\nthe Professor’s perturbation at reading something in an evening
\npaper at the station at Exeter, so, seeing that Dr. Seward keeps
\nhis newspapers, I borrowed the files of `The Westminster Gazette’
\nand `The Pall Mall Gazette’ and took them to my room. I remember
\nhow much the `Dailygraph’ and `The Whitby Gazette’, of which I had
\nmade cuttings, had helped us to understand the terrible events at
\nWhitby when Count Dracula landed, so I shall look through the
\nevening papers since then, and perhaps I shall get some new light.
\nI am not sleepy, and the work will help to keep me quiet.<\/p>\n

DR. SEWARD’S DIARY<\/p>\n

30 September.\u2014Mr. Harker arrived at nine o’clock. He got his
\nwife’s wire just before starting. He is uncommonly clever, if one
\ncan judge from his face, and full of energy. If this journal be
\ntrue, and judging by one’s own wonderful experiences, it must be,
\nhe is also a man of great nerve. That going down to the vault a
\nsecond time was a remarkable piece of daring. After reading his
\naccount of it I was prepared to meet a good specimen of manhood,
\nbut hardly the quiet, business-like gentleman who came here
\ntoday.<\/p>\n

LATER.\u2014After lunch Harker and his wife went back to their own
\nroom, and as I passed a while ago I heard the click of the
\ntypewriter. They are hard at it. Mrs. Harker says that knitting
\ntogether in chronological order every scrap of evidence they have.
\nHarker has got the letters between the consignee of the boxes at
\nWhitby and the carriers in London who took charge of them. He is
\nnow reading his wife’s transcript of my diary. I wonder what they
\nmake out of it. Here it is\u00a0\u2026<\/p>\n

Strange that it never struck me that the very next house might
\nbe the Count’s hiding place! Goodness knows that we had enough
\nclues from the conduct of the patient Renfield! The bundle of
\nletters relating to the purchase of the house were with the
\ntranscript. Oh, if we had only had them earlier we might have saved
\npoor Lucy! Stop! That way madness lies! Harker has gone back, and
\nis again collecting material. He says that by dinner time they will
\nbe able to show a whole connected narrative. He thinks that in the
\nmeantime I should see Renfield, as hitherto he has been a sort of
\nindex to the coming and going of the Count. I hardly see this yet,
\nbut when I get at the dates I suppose I shall. What a good thing
\nthat Mrs. Harker put my cylinders into type! We never could have
\nfound the dates otherwise.<\/p>\n

I found Renfield sitting placidly in his room with his hands
\nfolded, smiling benignly. At the moment he seemed as sane as any
\none I ever saw. I sat down and talked with him on a lot of
\nsubjects, all of which he treated naturally. He then, of his own
\naccord, spoke of going home, a subject he has never mentioned to my
\nknowledge during his sojourn here. In fact, he spoke quite
\nconfidently of getting his discharge at once. I believe that, had I
\nnot had the chat with Harker and read the letters and the dates of
\nhis outbursts, I should have been prepared to sign for him after a
\nbrief time of observation. As it is, I am darkly suspicious. All
\nthose outbreaks were in some way linked with the proximity of the
\nCount. What then does this absolute content mean? Can it be that
\nhis instinct is satisfied as to the vampire’s ultimate triumph?
\nStay. He is himself zoophagous, and in his wild ravings outside the
\nchapel door of the deserted house he always spoke of `master’. This
\nall seems confirmation of our idea. However, after a while I came
\naway. My friend is just a little too sane at present to make it
\nsafe to probe him too deep with questions. He might begin to think,
\nand then\u00a0\u2026 So I came away. I mistrust these quiet moods of of
\nhis, so I have given the attendant a hint to look closely after
\nhim, and to have a strait waistcoat ready in case of need.<\/p>\n

JOHNATHAN HARKER’S JOURNAL<\/p>\n

29 September, in train to London.\u2014When I received Mr.
\nBillington’s courteous message that he would give me any
\ninformation in his power I thought it best to go down to Whitby and
\nmake, on the spot, such inquiries as I wanted. It was now my object
\nto trace that horrid cargo of the Count’s to its place in London.
\nLater, we may be able to deal with it. Billington junior, a nice
\nlad, met me at the station, and brought me to his father’s house,
\nwhere they had decided that I must spend the night. They are
\nhospitable, with true Yorkshire hospitality, give a guest
\neverything and leave him to do as he likes. They all knew that I
\nwas busy, and that my stay was short, and Mr. Billington had ready
\nin his office all the papers concerning the consignment of boxes.
\nIt gave me almost a turn to see again one of the letters which I
\nhad seen on the Count’s table before I knew of his diabolical
\nplans. Everything had been carefully thought out, and done
\nsystematically and with precision. He seemed to have been prepared
\nfor every obstacle which might be placed by accident in the way of
\nhis intentions being carried out. To use an Americanism, he had
\n`taken no chances’, and the absolute accuracy with which his
\ninstructions were fulfilled was simply the logical result of his
\ncare. I saw the invoice, and took note of it.`Fifty cases of common
\nearth, to be used for experimental purposes’. Also the copy of the
\nletter to Carter Paterson, and their reply. Of both these I got
\ncopies. This was all the information Mr. Billington could give me,
\nso I went down to the port and saw the coastguards, the Customs
\nOfficers and the harbor master, who kindly put me in communication
\nwith the men who had actually received the boxes. Their tally was
\nexact with the list, and they had nothing to add to the simple
\ndescription `fifty cases of common earth’, except that the boxes
\nwere `main and mortal heavy’, and that shifting them was dry work.
\nOne of them added that it was hard lines that there wasn’t any
\ngentleman `such like as like yourself, squire’, to show some sort
\nof appreciation of their efforts in a liquid form. Another put in a
\nrider that the thirst then generated was such that even the time
\nwhich had elapsed had not completely allayed it. Needless to add, I
\ntook care before leaving to lift, forever and adequately, this
\nsource of reproach.<\/p>\n

30 September.\u2014The station master was good enough to give me a
\nline to his old companion the station master at King’s Cross, so
\nthat when I arrived there in the morning I was able to ask him
\nabout the arrival of the boxes. He, too put me at once in
\ncommunication with the proper officials, and I saw that their tally
\nwas correct with the original invoice. The opportunities of
\nacquiring an abnormal thirst had been here limited. A noble use of
\nthem had, however, been made, and again I was compelled to deal
\nwith the result in ex post facto manner.<\/p>\n

From thence I went to Carter Paterson’s central office, where I
\nmet with the utmost courtesy. They looked up the transaction in
\ntheir day book and letter book, and at once telephoned to their
\nKing’s Cross office for more details. By good fortune, the men who
\ndid the teaming were waiting for work, and the official at once
\nsent them over, sending also by one of them the way-bill and all
\nthe papers connected with the delivery of the boxes at Carfax. Here
\nagain I found the tally agreeing exactly. The carriers’ men were
\nable to supplement the paucity of the written words with a few more
\ndetails. These were, I shortly found, connected almost solely with
\nthe dusty nature of the job, and the consequent thirst engendered
\nin the operators. On my affording an opportunity, through the
\nmedium of the currency of the realm, of the allaying, at a later
\nperiod, this beneficial evil, one of the men remarked,<\/p>\n

“That `ere `ouse, guv’nor, is the rummiest I ever was in. Blyme!
\nBut it ain’t been touched sence a hundred years. There was dust
\nthat thick in the place that you might have slep’ on it without
\n`urtin’ of yer bones. An’ the place was that neglected that yer
\nmight `ave smelled ole Jerusalem in it. But the old chapel, that
\ntook the cike, that did!Me and my mate, we thort we wouldn’t never
\ngit out quick enough. Lor’, I wouldn’t take less nor a quid a
\nmoment to stay there arter dark.”<\/p>\n

Having been in the house, I could well believe him, but if he
\nknew what I know, he would, I think have raised his terms.<\/p>\n

Of one thing I am now satisfied. That all those boxes which
\narrived at Whitby from Varna in the Demeter were safely deposited
\nin the old chapel at Carfax. There should be fifty of them there,
\nunless any have since been removed, as from Dr. Seward’s diary I
\nfear.<\/p>\n

Later.\u2014Mina and I have worked all day, and we have put all the
\npapers into order.<\/p>\n

MINA HARKER’S JOURNAL<\/p>\n

30 September.\u2014I am so glad that I hardly know how to contain
\nmyself. It is, I suppose, the reaction from the haunting fear which
\nI have had, that this terrible affair and the reopening of his old
\nwound might act detrimentally on Jonathan. I saw him leave for
\nWhitby with as brave a face as could, but I was sick with
\napprehension. The effort has, however, done him good. He was never
\nso resolute, never so strong, never so full of volcanic energy, as
\nat present. It is just as that dear, good Professor Van Helsing
\nsaid, he is true grit, and he improves under strain that would kill
\na weaker nature. He came back full of life and hope and
\ndetermination. We have got everything in order for tonight. I feel
\nmyself quite wild with excitement. I suppose one ought to pity
\nanything so hunted as the Count. That is just it. This thing is not
\nhuman, not even a beast. To read Dr. Seward’s account of poor
\nLucy’s death, and what followed, is enough to dry up the springs of
\npity in one’s heart.<\/p>\n

Later.\u2014Lord Godalming and Mr. Morris arrived earlier than we
\nexpected. Dr. Seward was out on business, and had taken Jonathan
\nwith him, so I had to see them. It was to me a painful meeting, for
\nit brought back all poor dear Lucy’s hopes of only a few months
\nago. Of course they had heard Lucy speak of me, and it seemed that
\nDr. Van Helsing, too, had been quite `blowing my trumpet’, as Mr.
\nMorris expressed it. Poor fellows, neither of them is aware that I
\nknow all about the proposals they made to Lucy. They did not quite
\nknow what to say or do, as they were ignorant of the amount of my
\nknowledge. So they had to keep on neutral subjects. However, I
\nthought the matter over, and came to the conclusion that the best
\nthing I could do would be to post them on affairs right up to date.
\nI knew from Dr. Seward’s diary that they had been at Lucy’s death,
\nher real death, and that I need not fear to betray any secret
\nbefore the time. So I told them, as well as I could, that I had
\nread all the papers and diaries, and that my husband and I, having
\ntypewritten them, had just finished putting them in order. I gave
\nthem each a copy to read in the library. When Lord Godalming got
\nhis and turned it over, it does make a pretty good pile, he said,
\n“Did you write all this, Mrs. Harker?”<\/p>\n

I nodded, and he went on.<\/p>\n

“I don’t quite see the drift of it, but you people are all so
\ngood and kind, and have been working so earnestly and so
\nenergetically, that all I can do is to accept your ideas blindfold
\nand try to help you. I have had one lesson already in accepting
\nfacts that should make a man humble to the last hour of his life.
\nBesides, I know you loved my Lucy\u00a0\u2026 ”<\/p>\n

Here he turned away and covered his face with his hands. I could
\nhear the tears in his voice. Mr. Morris, with instinctive delicacy,
\njust laid a hand for a moment on his shoulder, and then walked
\nquietly out of the room. I suppose there is something in a woman’s
\nnature that makes a man free to break down before her and express
\nhis feelings on the tender or emotional side without feeling it
\nderogatory to his manhood. For when Lord Godalming found himself
\nalone with me he sat down on the sofa and gave way utterly and
\nopenly. I sat down beside him and took his hand. I hope he didn’t
\nthink it forward of me, and that if her ever thinks of it
\nafterwards he never will have such a thought. There I wrong him. I
\nknow he never will. He is too true a gentleman. I said to him, for
\nI could see that his heart was breaking, “I loved dear Lucy, and I
\nknow what she was to you, and what you were to her. She and I were
\nlike sisters, and now she is gone, will you not let me be like a
\nsister to you in your trouble? I know what sorrows you have had,
\nthough I cannot measure the depth of them. If sympathy and pity can
\nhelp in your affliction, won’t you let me be of some little
\nservice, for Lucy’s sake?”<\/p>\n

In an instant the poor dear fellow was overwhelmed with grief.
\nIt seemed to me that all that he had of late been suffering in
\nsilence found a vent at once. He grew quite hysterical, and raising
\nhis open hands, beat his palms together in a perfect agony of
\ngrief. He stood up and then sat down again, and the tears rained
\ndown his cheeks. I felt an infinite pity for him, and opened my
\narms unthinkingly. With a sob he laid his head on my shoulder and
\ncried like a wearied child, whilst he shook with emotion.<\/p>\n

We women have something of the mother in us that makes us rise
\nabove smaller matters when the mother spirit is invoked. I felt
\nthis big sorrowing man’s head resting on me, as though it were that
\nof a baby that some day may lie on my bosom, and I stroked his hair
\nas though he were my own child. I never thought at the time how
\nstrange it all was.<\/p>\n

After a little bit his sobs ceased, and he raised himself with
\nan apology, though he made no disguise of his emotion. He told me
\nthat for days and nights past, weary days and sleepless nights, he
\nhad been unable to speak with any one, as a man must speak in his
\ntime of sorrow. There was no woman whose sympathy could be given to
\nhim, or with whom, owing to the terrible circumstance with which
\nhis sorrow was surrounded, he could speak freely.<\/p>\n

“I know now how I suffered,” he said, as he dried his eyes, “but
\nI do not know even yet, and none other can ever know, how much your
\nsweet sympathy has been to me today. I shall know better in time,
\nand believe me that, though I am not ungrateful now, my gratitude
\nwill grow with my understanding. You will let me be like a brother,
\nwill you not, for all our lives, for dear Lucy’s sake?”<\/p>\n

“For dear Lucy’s sake,” I said as we clasped hands.”Ay, and for
\nyour own sake,” he added, “for if a man’s esteem and gratitude are
\never worth the winning, you have won mine today. If ever the future
\nshould bring to you a time when you need a man’s help, believe me,
\nyou will not call in vain. God grant that no such time may ever
\ncome to you to break the sunshine of your life, but if it should
\never come, promise me that you will let me know.”<\/p>\n

He was so earnest, and his sorrow was so fresh, that I felt it
\nwould comfort him, so I said, “I promise.”<\/p>\n

As I came along the corridor I say Mr. Morris looking out of a
\nwindow. He turned as he heard my footsteps. “How is Art?” he said.
\nThen noticing my red eyes, he went on,”Ah, I see you have been
\ncomforting him. Poor old fellow! He needs it. No one but a woman
\ncan help a man when he is in trouble of the heart, and he had no
\none to comfort him.”<\/p>\n

He bore his own trouble so bravely that my heart bled for him. I
\nsaw the manuscript in his hand, and I knew that when he read it he
\nwould realize how much I knew, so I said to him,”I wish I could
\ncomfort all who suffer from the heart. Will you let me be your
\nfriend, and will you come to me for comfort if you need it? You
\nwill know later why I speak.”<\/p>\n

He saw that I was in earnest, and stooping, took my hand, and
\nraising it to his lips, kissed it. It seemed but poor comfort to so
\nbrave and unselfish a soul, and impulsively I bent over and kissed
\nhim. The tears rose in his eyes, and there was a momentary choking
\nin his throat. He said quite calmly,”Little girl, you will never
\nforget that true hearted kindness, so long as ever you live!” Then
\nhe went into the study to his friend.<\/p>\n

“Little girl!” The very words he had used to Lucy, and, oh, but
\nhe proved himself a friend.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"menu_order":17,"template":"","meta":{"pb_show_title":"on","pb_short_title":"","pb_subtitle":"","pb_authors":[],"pb_section_license":""},"chapter-type":[],"contributor":[],"license":[],"class_list":["post-41","chapter","type-chapter","status-publish","hentry"],"part":3,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/dracula\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/chapters\/41","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/dracula\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/chapters"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/dracula\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/chapter"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/dracula\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/dracula\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/chapters\/41\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":79,"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/dracula\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/chapters\/41\/revisions\/79"}],"part":[{"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/dracula\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/parts\/3"}],"metadata":[{"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/dracula\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/chapters\/41\/metadata\/"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/dracula\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=41"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"chapter-type","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/dracula\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/chapter-type?post=41"},{"taxonomy":"contributor","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/dracula\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/contributor?post=41"},{"taxonomy":"license","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/dracula\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/license?post=41"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}