Original Gothic Novel
LETTERS, ETC.- continued.
Mina Harker to Lucy Westenra.
know you will be anxious to hear all that has happened since we parted at
the railway station at Whitby. Well, my dear, I got to Hull all right, and
caught the boat to Homburg, and then the train on here. I feel that I can
hardly recall anything of the journey, except that I knew I was coming to
Jonathan, and, that as I should have to do some nursing, I had better get
all the sleep I could... I found my dear one, oh, so thin and pale and weak-looking.
All the resolution has gone out of his dear eyes, and that quiet dignity which
I told you was in his face has vanished. He is only a wreck of himself, and
he does not remember anything that has happened to him for a long time past.
At least, he wants me to believe so, and I shall never ask. He has had some
terrible shock, and I fear it might tax his poor brain if he were to try to
recall it. Sister Agatha, who is a good creature and a born nurse, tells me
that he raved of dreadful things whilst he was off his head. I wanted her
to tell me what they were; but she would only cross herself, and say she would
never tell; that the ravings of the sick were the secrets of God, and that
if a nurse through her vocation should hear them, she should respect her trust.
She is a sweet, good soul, and the next day, when she saw I was troubled,
she opened up the subject again, and after saying that she could never mention
what my poor dear raved about, added: 'I can tell you this much, my dear:
that it was not about anything which he has done wrong himself, and you, as
his wife to be, have no cause to be concerned. He has not forgotten you or
what he owes to you. His fear was of great and terrible things, which no mortal
can treat of.' I do believe the dear soul thought I might be jealous lest
my poor dear should have fallen in love with any other girl. The idea of my
being jealous about Jonathan! And yet, my dear, let me whisper, I felt a thrill
of joy through me when I knew that no other woman was a cause of trouble.
I am now sitting by his bedside, where I can see his face while he sleeps.
He is waking!...
he woke he asked me for his coat, as he wanted to get something from the pocket;
I asked Sister Agatha, and she brought all his things. I saw that amongst
them was his note-book, and was going to ask him to let me look at it- for
I knew then that I might find some clue to his trouble- but I suppose he must
have seen my wish in my eyes, for he sent me over to the window, saying he
wanted to be quite alone for a moment. Then he called me back, and when I
came he had his hand over the note-book, and he said to me very solemnly:-
I knew then that he was in deadly earnest, for he has never called me by that
name since he asked me to marry him- 'you know, dear, my ideas of the trust
between husband and wife: there should be no secret, no concealment. I have
had a great shock, and when I try to think of what it is I feel my head spin
round, and I do not know if it was all real or the dreaming of a madman. You
know I have had brain fever, and that is to be mad. The secret is here, and
I do not want to know it. I want to take up my life here, with our marriage.'
For, my dear, we had decided to be married as soon as the formalities are
complete. 'Are you willing, Wilhelmina, to share my ignorance? Here is the
book. Take it and keep it, read it if you will, but never let me know; unless,
indeed, some solemn duty should come upon me to go back to the bitter hours,
asleep or awake, sane or mad, recorded here.' He fell back exhausted, and
I put the book under his pillow, and kissed him I have asked Sister Agatha
to beg the Superior to let our wedding be this afternoon, and am waiting her
has come and told me that the chaplain of the English mission church has been
sent for. We are to be married in an hour, or as soon after as Jonathan awakes...
the time has come and gone. I feel very solemn, but very, very happy. Jonathan
woke a little after the hour, and all was ready, and he sat up in bed, propped
up with pillows. He answered his 'I will' firmly and strongly. I could hardly
speak; my heart was so full that even those words seemed to choke me. The
dear sisters were so kind. Please God, I shall never, never forget them, nor
the grave and sweet responsibilities I have taken upon me. I must tell you
of my wedding present. When the chaplain and the sisters had left me alone
with my husband- oh, Lucy, it is the first time I have written the words 'my
husband'- left me alone with my husband, I took the book from under his pillow,
and wrapped it up in white paper, and tied it with a little bit of pale blue
ribbon which was round my neck, and sealed it over the knot with sealing-wax,
and for my seal I used my wedding ring. Then I kissed it and showed it to
my husband, and told him that I would keep it so, and then it would be an
outward and visible sign for us all our lives that we trusted each other;
that I would never open it unless it were for his own dear sake or for the
sake of some stern duty. Then he took my hand in his, and oh, Lucy, it was
the first time he took his wife's hand, and said that it was the dearest thing
in all the wide world, and that he would go through all the past again to
win it, if need be. The poor dear meant to have said a part of the past; but
he cannot think of time yet, and I shall not wonder if at first he mixes up
not only the month, but the year.
my dear, what could I say? I could only tell him that I was the happiest woman
in all the wide world, and that I had nothing to give him except myself, my
life, and my trust, and that with these went my love and duty for all the
days of my life. And, my dear, when he kissed me, and drew me to him with
his poor weak hands, it was like a very solemn pledge between us...
dear, do you know why I tell you all this? It is not only because it is all
sweet to me, but because you have been, and are, very dear to me. It was my
privilege to be your friend and guide when you came from the schoolroom to
prepare for the world of life. I want you to see now, and with the eyes of
a very happy wife, whither duty has led me; so that in your own married life
you too may be all happy as I am. My dear, please Almighty God, your life
may be all it promises: a long day of sunshine, with no harsh kind, no forgetting
duty, no distrust. I must not wish you no pain, for that can never be; but
I do hope you will be always as happy as I am now Good-bye, my dear. I shall
post this at once, and, perhaps, write you very soon again. I must stop, for
Jonathan is waking- I must attend to my husband!
Lucy Westenra to Mina Harker.
love and millions of kisses, and may you soon be in your own home with your
husband. I wish you could be coming home soon enough to stay with us here.
The strong air would soon restore Jonathan; it has quite restored me. I have
an appetite like a cormorant, am full of life, and sleep well. You will be
glad to know that I have quite given up walking in my sleep. I think I have
not stirred out of my bed for a week, that is when I once got into it at night.
Arthur says I am getting fat. By the way, I forgot to tell you that Arthur
is here. We have such walks and drives, and rides, and rowing, and tennis,
and fishing together; and I love him more than ever. He tells me that he loves
me more, but I doubt that, for at first he told me that he couldn't love me
more than he did then. But this is nonsense. There he is, calling to me. So
no more just at present from your loving
sends her love. She seems better, poor dear.
We are to be married on 28 September."
20 August.- The
case of Renfield grows even more interesting. He has now so far quieted that
there are spells or cessation from his passion. For the first week after his
attack he was perpetually violent. Then one night, just as the moon rose,
he grew quiet, and kept murmuring to himself- "Now I can wait; now I
can wait." The attendant came to tell me, so I ran down at once to have
a look at him. He was still in the strait-waistcoat and in the padded room,
but the suffused look had gone from his face, and his eyes had something of
their old pleading- I might almost say, "cringing"- softness, I
was satisfied with his present condition, and directed him to be relieved.
The attendants hesitated, but finally carried out my wishes without protest.
It was a strange thing that the patient had humour enough to see their distrust,
for, coming close to me, he said in a whisper, all the while looking furtively
I could hurt you! Fancy me hurting you! The fools!"
It was soothing,
somehow, to the feelings to find myself dissociated even in the mind of this
poor madman from the others; but all the same I do not follow his thought.
Am I to take it that I have anything in common with him, so that we are, as
it were, to stand together; or has he to gain from me some good so stupendous
that my well-being is needful to him? I must find out later on. To-night he
will not speak. Even the offer of a kitten or even a full-grown cat will not
tempt him. He will only say: "I don't take any stock in cats. I have
more to think of now, and I can wait; I can wait."
After a while
I left him. The attendant tells me that he was quiet until just before dawn,
and that then he began to get uneasy, and at length violent, until at last
he fell into a paroxysm which exhausted him so that he swooned into a sort
has the same thing happened- violent all day then quiet from moonrise to sunrise.
I wish I could get some clue to the cause. It would almost seem as if there
was some influence which came and went. Happy thought! We shall to-night play
sane wits against mad ones. He escaped before without our help; to-night he
shall escape with it. We shall give him a chance, and have the men ready to
follow in case they are required...
23 August.- "The
unexpected always happens." How well Disraeli knew life. Our bird when
he found the cage open would not fly, so all our subtle arrangements were
for nought. At any rate, we have proved one thing; that the spells of quietness
last a reasonable time. We shall in future be able to ease his bonds for a
few hours each day. I have given orders to the night attendant merely to shut
him in the padded room, when once he is quiet, until an hour before sunrise.
The poor soul's body will enjoy the relief even if his mind cannot appreciate
it. Hark! The unexpected again! I am called; the patient has once more escaped.
night adventure. Renfield artfully waited until the attendant was entering
the room to inspect. Then he dashed out past him and new down the passage.
I sent word for the attendants to follow. Again he went into the grounds of
the deserted house, and we found him in the same place, pressed against the
old chapel door. When he saw me he became furious, and had not the attendants
seized him in time, he would have tried to kill me. As we were holding him
a strange thing happened. He suddenly redoubled his efforts, and then as suddenly
grew calm. I looked round instinctively, but could see nothing. Then I caught
the patient's eye and followed it, but could trace nothing as it looked into
the moonlit sky except a big bat, which was flapping its silent and ghostly
way to the West. Bats usually wheel and flit about, but this one seemed to
go straight on, as if it knew where it was bound for or had some intention
of its own. The patient grew calmer every instant, and presently said:
tie me; I shall go quietly!" Without trouble we came back to the house.
I feel there is something ominous in his calm, and shall not forget this night...
August.- I must imitate Mina, and keep writing things down. Then we can have
long talks when we do meet. I wonder when it will be. I wish she were with
me again, for I feel so unhappy. Last night I seemed to be dreaming again
just as I was at Whitby. Perhaps it is the change of air, or getting home
again. It is all dark and horrid to me, for I can remember nothing; but I
am full of vague fear, and I feel so weak and worn out. When Arthur came to
lunch he looked quite grieved when he saw me, and I hadn't the spirit to try
to be cheerful. I wonder if I could sleep in mother's room to-night. I shall
make an excuse and try.
25 August.- Another
bad night. Mother did not seem to take to my proposal. She seems not too well
herself, and doubtless she fears to worry me. I tried to keep awake, and succeeded
for a while; but when the clock struck twelve it waked me from a doze, so
I must have been falling asleep. There was a sort of scratching or flapping
at the window, but I did not mind it, and as I remember no more, I suppose
I must then have fallen asleep. More bad dreams. I wish I could remember them.
This morning I am horribly weak. My face is ghastly pale, and my throat pains
me. It must be something wrong with my lungs, for I don't seem ever to get
air enough. I shall try to cheer up when Arthur comes, or else I know he will
be miserable to see me so.
Arthur Holmwood to Dr. Seward.
Hotel, 31 August.
"I want you
to do me a favour. Lucy is ill; that is, she has no special disease, but she
looks awful, and is getting worse every day. I have asked her if there is
any cause; I do not dare to ask her mother, for to disturb the poor lady's
mind about her daughter in her present state of health would be fatal. Mrs.
Westenra has confided to me that her doom is spoken- disease of the heart-
though poor Lucy does not know it yet. I am sure that there is something preying
on my dear girl's mind: I am almost distracted when I think of her; to look
at her gives me a pang. I told her I should ask you to see her, and though
she demurred at first- I know why, old fellow- she finally consented. It will
be a painful task for you, I know, old friend, but it is for her sake, and
I must not hesitate to ask, or you to act. You are to come to lunch at Hillingham
to-morrow, two o'clock, so as not to arose any suspicion in Mrs. Westenra,
and after lunch Lucy will take an opportunity of being alone with you. I shall
come in for tea, and we can go away together; I am filled with anxiety, and
want to consult with you alone as soon as I can after you have seen her. Do
Arthur Holmwood to Seward.
to see my father, who is worse. Am writing. Write me fully by to-night's post
to Ring. Wire me if necessary."
from Dr. Seward to Arthur Holmwood.
to Miss Westenra's health I hasten to let you know at once that in my opinion
there is not any functional disturbance or any malady that I know of. At the
same time, I am not by any means satisfied with her appearance; she is woefully
different from what she was when I saw her last. Of course you must bear in
mind that I did not have full opportunity of examination such as I should
wish; our very friendship makes a little difficulty which not even medical
science or custom can bridge over. I had better tell you exactly what happened,
leaving you to draw, in a measure, your own conclusions. I shall then say
what I have done and propose doing.
Miss Westenra in seemingly gay spirits. Her mother was present, and in a few
seconds I made up my mind that she was trying all she knew to mislead her
mother and prevent her from being anxious. I have no doubt she guesses, if
she does not know, what need of caution there is. We lunched alone, and as
we all exerted ourselves to be cheerful, we got, as some kind of reward for
our labors, some real cheerfulness amongst us. Then Mrs. Westenra went to
lie down, and Lucy was left with me. We went into her boudoir, and till we
got there her gaiety remained, for the servants were coming and going. As
soon as the door was closed, however, the mask fell from her face, and she
sank down into a chair with a great sigh, and hid her eyes with her hand.
When I saw that her high spirits had failed, I at once took advantage of her
reaction to make a diagnosis. She said to me very sweetly:
tell you how I loathe talking about myself.' I reminded her that a doctor's
confidence was sacred, but that you were grievously anxious about her. She
caught on to my meaning at once, and settled that matter in a word. 'Tell
Arthur everything you choose. I do not care for myself, but all for him!'
So I am quite free.
easily see that she is somewhat bloodless, but I could not see the usual anaemic
signs, and by a chance I was actually able to test the quality of her blood,
for in opening a window which was stiff a cord gave way, and she cut her hand
slightly with broken glass. It was a slight matter in itself, but it gave
me an evident chance, and I secured a few drops of the blood and have analyzed
them. The qualitative analysis gives a quite normal condition, and shows,
I should infer, in itself a vigorous state of health. In other physical matters
I was quite satisfied that there is no need for anxiety; but as there must
be a cause somewhere, I have come to the conclusion that it must be something
mental. She complains of difficulty in breathing satisfactorily at times,
and of heavy, lethargic sleep, with dreams that frighten her, but regarding
which she can remember nothing. She says that as a child she used to walk
in her sleep, and that when in Whitby the habit came back, and that once she
walked out in the night and went to the East Cliff, where Miss Murray found
her; but she assures me that of late the habit has not returned. I am in doubt,
and so have done the best thing I know of, I have written to my old friend
and master, Professor Van Helsing, of Amsterdam, who knows as much about obscure
diseases as any one in the world. I have asked him to come over, and as you
told me that all things were to be at your charge, I have mentioned to him
who you are and your relations to Miss Westenra. This, my dear fellow, is
in obedience to your wishes, for I am only too proud and happy to do anything
I can for her. Van Helsing would, I know, do anything for me for a personal
reason. So, no matter on what ground he comes, we must accept his wishes.
He is a seemingly arbitrary man, but this is because he knows what he is talking
about better than any one else. He is a philosopher and a metaphysician, and
one of the most advanced scientists of his day; and he has, I believe, an
absolutely open mind. This, with an iron nerve, a temper of the ice-brook,
an indomitable resolution, self-command and toleration exalted from virtues
to blessings, and the kindliest and truest heart that beats- these form his
equipment for the noble work that he is doing for mankind- work both in theory
and practice, for his views are as wide as his all-embracing sympathy. I tell
you these facts that you may know why I have such confidence in him. I have
asked him to come at once. I shall see Miss Westenra to-morrow again. She
is to meet me at the Stores, so that I may not alarm her mother by too early
a repetition of my call.
Abraham Van Helsing, M.D., D. Ph., D. Lit., etc., etc., to Dr. Seward.
"When I have received your letter I am already coming to you.
By good fortune I can leave just at once, without wrong to any of those who
have trusted me. Were fortune other, then it were bad for those who have trusted,
for I come to my friend when he call me to aid those he holds dear. Tell your
friend that when that time you suck from my wound so swiftly the poison of
the gangrene from that knife that our other friend, too nervous, let slip,
you did more for him when he wants my aids and you call for them than all
his great fortune could do. But it is pleasure added to do for him, your friend;
it is to you that I come. Have then rooms for me at the Great Eastern Hotel,
so that I may be near to hand, and please it so arrange that we may see the
young lady not too late on to-morrow, for it is likely that I may have to
return here that night. But if need be I shall come again in three days, and
stay longer if it must. Till then good-bye, my friend John.
Dr. Seward to Hon. Arthur Holmwood.
"My dear Art,-
has come and gone. He came on with me to Hillingham, and found that, by Lucy's
discretion, her mother was lunching out, so that we were alone with her. Van
Helsing made a very careful examination of the patient. He is to report to
me, and I shall advise you, for of course I was not present all the time.
He is, I fear, much concerned, but says he must think. When I told him of
our friendship and how you trust to me in the matter, he said: 'You must tell
him all you think. Tell him what I think, if you can guess it, if you will.
Nay, I am not jesting. This is no jest, but life and death, perhaps more.'
I asked what he meant by that, for he was very serious. This was when we had
come back to town, and he was having a cup of tea before starting on his return
to Amsterdam. He would not give me any further clue. You must not be angry
with me, Art, because his very reticence means that all his brains are working
for her good. He will speak plainly enough when the time comes, be sure. So
I told him I would simply write an account of our visit, just as if I were
doing a descriptive special article for The Dally Telegraph. He seemed not
to notice, but remarked that the smuts in London were not quite so bad as
they used to be when he was a student here. I am to get his report tomorrow
if he can possible make it. In any case I am to have a letter.
to the visit. Lucy was more cheerful than on the day I first saw her, and
certainly looked better. She had lost something of the ghastly look that so
upset you, and her breathing was normal. She was very sweet to the professor
(as she always is), and tried to make him feel at ease; though I could see
that the poor girl was making a hard struggle for it. I believe Van Helsing
saw it, too, for I saw the quick look under his bushy brows that I knew of
old. Then he began to chat of all things except ourselves and diseases and
with such an infinite geniality that I could see poor Lucy's pretense of animation
merge into reality. Then, without any seeming change, he brought the conversation
gently round to his visit, and suavely said:-
young miss, I have the so great pleasure because you are much beloved. That
is much, my dear, even were there that which I do not see. They told me you
were down in the spirit, and that you were of a ghastly pale. To them I say:
"Pouf!"' And he snapped his fingers at me and went on: 'But you
and I shall show them how wrong they are. How can he'- and he pointed at me
with the same look and gesture as that with which once he pointed me out to
his class, on, or rather after, a particular occasion which he never fails
to remind me of- 'know anything of a young ladies? He has his madams to play
with, and to bring them back to happiness and to those that love them. It
is much to do, and, oh, but there are rewards, in that we can bestow such
happiness. But the young ladies! He has no wife nor daughter, and the young
do not tell themselves to the young, but to the old, like me, who have known
so many sorrows and the causes of them. So, my dear, we will send him away
to smoke the cigarette in the garden, whiles you and I have little talk all
to ourselves.' I took the hint, and strolled about, and presently the professor
came to the window and called me in. He looked grave, but said: 'I have made
careful examination, but there is no functional cause. With you I agree that
there has been much blood lost; it has been, but is not. But the conditions
of her are in no way anemic. I have asked her to send me her maid, that I
may ask just one or two question, that so I may not chance to miss nothing.
I know well what she will say. And yet there is cause; there is always cause
for everything. I must go back home and think. You must send to me the telegram
every day; and if there be cause I shall come again. The disease- for not
to be all well is a disease- interest me, and the sweet young dear, she interest
me too. She charm me, and for her, if not for you or disease, I come.'
"As I tell
you, he would not say a word more, even when we were alone. And so now, Art,
you know all I know. I shall keep stern watch. I trust your poor father is
rallying. It must be a terrible thing to you, my dear old fellow, to be placed
in such a position between two people who are both so dear to you. I know
your idea of duty to your father, and you are right to stick to it; but, if
need be, I shall send you word to come at once to Lucy; so do not be over-anxious
unless you hear from me."
Dr. Seward's Diary.
Zoophagous patient still keeps up our interest in him. He had only one outburst
and that was yesterday at an unusual time. Just before the stroke of noon
he began to grow restless. The attendant knew the symptoms, and at once summoned
aid. Fortunately the men came at a run, and were just in time, for at the
stroke of noon he became so violent that it took all their strength to hold
him. In about five minutes, however, he began to get more and more quiet,
and finally sank into a sort of melancholy, in which state he has remained
up to now. The attendant tells me that his screams whilst in the paroxysm
were really appalling; I found my hands full when I got in, attending to some
of the other patients who were frightened by him. Indeed, I can quite understand
the effect, for the sounds disturbed even me, though I was some distance away.
It is now after the dinner-hour of the asylum, and as yet my patient sits
in a corner brooding, with a dull, sullen, woe-be-gone look in his face, which
seems rather to indicate than to show something directly. I cannot quite understand
change in my patient. At five o'clock I looked in on him, and found him seemingly
as happy and contented as he used to be. He was catching flies and eating
them, and was keeping note of his capture by making nailmarks on the edge
of the door between the ridges of padding. When he saw me, he came over and
apologized for his bad conduct, and asked me in a very humble, cringing way
to be led back to his own room and to have his note-book again. I thought
it well to humor him; so he is back in his room, with the window open. He
has the sugar of his tea spread out on the window-sill, and is reaping quite
a harvest of flies. He is not now eating them, but putting them into a box,
as of old, and is already examining the corners of his room to find a spider.
I tried to get him to talk about the past few days, for any clue to his thoughts
would be of immense help to me; but he would not rise. For a moment or two
he looked very sad, and said in a sort of far-away voice, as though saying
it rather to himself than to me:-
all over! He has deserted me. No hope for me now unless I do it for myself!"
Then suddenly turning to me in a resolute way, he said: "Doctor, won't
you be very good to me and let me have a little more sugar? I think it would
be good for me."
flies?" I said.
flies like it, too, and I like the flies; therefore I like it." And there
are people who know so little as to think that madmen do not argue. I procured
him a double supply, and left him as happy a man as, I suppose, any in the
world. I wish I could fathom his mind.
change in him. I had been to see Miss Westenra, whom I found much better,
and had just returned, and was standing at our own gate looking at the sunset,
when once more I heard him yelling. As his room is on this side of the house,
I could hear it better than in the morning. It was a shock to me to turn from
the wonderful smoky beauty of a sunset over London, with its lurid lights
and inky shadows and all the marvelous tints that come on foul clouds even
as on foul water, and to realize all the grim sternness of my own cold stone
building, with its wealth of breathing misery, and my own desolate heart to
endure it all. I reached him just as the sun was going down, and from his
window saw the red disc sink. As it sank he became less and less frenzied;
and just as it dipped he slid from the hands that held him, an inert mass,
on the floor. It is wonderful, however, what intellectual recuperative power
lunatics have, for within a few minutes he stood up quite calmly and looked
around him. I signaled to the attendants not to hold him, for I was anxious
to see what he would do. He went straight over to the window and brushed out
the crumbs of sugar; then he took his fly-box and emptied it outside, and
threw away the box: then he shut the window and crossing over, sat down on
his bed. All this surprised me, so I asked him: "Are you not going to
keep flies any more?"
said he; "I am sick of all that rubbish!" He certainly is a wonderfully
interesting study. I wish I could get some glimpse of his mind or of the cause
of his sudden passion. Stop; there may be a clue after all, if we can find
why to-day his paroxysms came on at high noon and at sunset. Can it be that
there is a malign influence of the sun at periods which affects certain natures-
as at times the moon does others? We shall see.
Seward, London, to Van Helsing, Amsterdam.
Patient still better to-day."
Seward, London, to Van Helsing, Amsterdam.
Patient greatly improved. Good appetite; sleeps naturally; good spirits; colour
Seward, London, to Van Helsing, Amsterdam.
September.- Terrible change for the worse. Come at once; do not lose an hour.
I hold over telegram to Holmwood till have seen you."
Original Gothic Novel
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