cut at him. He had parried with his great bowie knife, and at first
I thought that he too had come through in safety. But as he sprang
beside Jonathan, who had by now jumped from the cart, I could see
that with his left hand he was clutching at his side, and that the
blood was spurting through his fingers. He did not delay
notwithstanding this, for as Jonathan, with desperate energy,
attacked one end of the chest, attempting to prize off the lid with
his great Kukri knife, he attacked the other frantically with his
bowie. Under the efforts of both men the lid began to yield. The
nails drew with a screeching sound, and the top of the box was
thrown back.
By this time the gypsies, seeing themselves covered by the
Winchesters, and at the mercy of Lord Godalming and Dr. Seward, had
given in and made no further resistance. The sun was almost down on
the mountain tops, and the shadows of the whole group fell upon the
snow. I saw the Count lying within the box upon the earth, some of
which the rude falling from the cart had scattered over him. He was
deathly pale, just like a waxen image, and the red eyes glared with
the horrible vindictive look which I knew so well.
As I looked, the eyes saw the sinking sun, and the look of hate
in them turned to triumph.
But, on the instant, came the sweep and flash of Jonathan's
great knife. I shrieked as I saw it shear through the throat.
Whilst at the same moment Mr. Morris's bowie knife plunged into the
heart.
It was like a miracle, but before our very eyes, and almost in
the drawing of a breath, the whole body crumbled into dust and
passed from our sight.
I shall be glad as long as I live that even in that moment of
final dissolution, there was in the face a look of peace, such as I
never could have imagined might have rested there.
The Castle of Dracula now stood out against the red sky, and
every stone of its broken battlements was articulated against the
light of the setting sun.
The gypsies, taking us as in some way the cause of thelight of the setting sun.
The gypsies, taking us as in some way the cause of the
extraordinary disappearance of the dead man, turned, without a
word, and rode away as if for their lives. Those who were unmounted
jumped upon the leiter wagon and shouted to the horsemen not to
desert them. The wolves, which had withdrawn to a safe distance,
followed in their wake, leaving us alone.
Mr. Morris, who had sunk to the ground, leaned on his elbow,
holding his hand pressed to his side. The blood still gushed
through his fingers. I flew to him, for the Holy circle did not now
keep me back, so did the two doctors. Jonathan knelt behind him and
the wounded man laid back his head on his shoulder. With a sigh he
took, with a feeble effort, my hand in that of his own which was
unstained.
He must have seen the anguish of my heart in my face, for he
smiled at me and said, "I am only too happy to have been of
service! Oh, God!" he cried suddenly, struggling to a sitting
posture and pointing to me. "It was worth for this to die! Look!
Look!"
The sun was now right down upon the mountain top, and the red
gleams fell upon my face, so that it was bathed in rosy light. With
one impulse the men sank on their knees and a deep and earnest
"Amen" broke from all as their eyes followed the pointing of his
finger.
The dying man spoke, "Now God be thanked that all has not been
in vain! See! The snow is not more stainless than her forehead! The
curse has passed away!"
And, to our bitter grief, with a smile and in silence, he died,
a gallant gentleman.
NOTE
Seven years ago we all went through the flames. And the
happiness of some of us since then is, we think, well worth the
pain we endured. It is an added joy to Mina and to me that our
boy's birthday is the same day as that on which Quincey Morris
died. His mother holds, I know, the secret belief that some of our
brave friend's spirit has passed into him. His bundle of names
links all our little band of men together. But we call him
Quincey.links all our little band of men together. But we call him
Quincey.
In the summer of this year we made a journey to Transylvania,
and went over the old ground which was, and is, to us so full of
vivid and terrible memories. It was almost impossible to believe
that the things which we had seen with our own eyes and heard with
our own ears were living truths. Every trace of all that had been
was blotted out. The castle stood as before, reared high above a
waste of desolation.
When we got home we were talking of the old time, which we could
all look back on without despair, for Godalming and Seward are both
happily married. I took the papers from the safe where they had
been ever since our return so long ago. We were struck with the
fact, that in all the mass of material of which the record is
composed, there is hardly one authentic document. Nothing but a
mass of typewriting, except the later notebooks of Mina and Seward
and myself, and Van Helsing's memorandum. We could hardly ask any
one, even did we wish to, to accept these as proofs of so wild a
story. Van Helsing summed it all up as he said, with our boy on his
knee.
"We want no proofs. We ask none to believe us! This boy will
some day know what a brave and gallant woman his mother is. Already
he knows her sweetness and loving care. Later on he will understand
how some men so loved her, that they did dare much for her
sake.
JONATHAN HARKER